


Influence of Demons

by gabrielleabelle



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: AU, Angst, Cocaine, Dark, Disturbing, Drugs, F/M, Prostitution, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-14
Updated: 2012-03-03
Packaged: 2017-10-02 17:53:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 71,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabrielleabelle/pseuds/gabrielleabelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Goes AU after S5's <i>Checkpoint</i>. Five years ago, Buffy and Spike fell into a portal to a dimension ruled by demons. Finally, reunited, their goal is to get back home. However, the years in this dimension have changed them. Spike's long isolation keeps him distant, and Buffy's enforced life at a brothel has caused her to forget the Slayer she used to be. Somehow, they'll have to find themselves again to defeat a powerful enemy and make it home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Stranger You Know

**Chapter One: A Stranger You Know**

_La Ratugabe_ was in the nice part of town, though the "nice" part of town would have been considered a slum back home. Spike went into vamp-face to deter a mugger. The small reptilian whatever-the-fuck-you-call-it scurried away, not wishing to go up against a vampire. For once, Spike wasn't in the mood for a fight. He'd spent a lot of money to get the powder to pop him halfway round the world for this, based on one tiny rumor he'd heard in some disreputable bar. He couldn't afford to let this chance go, though. He'd chase shadows if he bloody well had to.

This world was such a piece of shit. Even the glow agreed.

It looked nice for a whorehouse. Classy sign advertising the different demon-types that it was offering. The type of place a bloke wouldn't be too embarrassed to be seen at. Well, not for this world. As Spike entered, clomping his heavy boots on the interior floor and wiping mud on the tile, a small Garog demon ran up to him.

"Salutations, Mr. Vampire! Is it your first time here?" the Garog wrinkled its nose at the dirtied floor, but it held its tongue. A wise choice.

"Yeh," Spike said, looking around at the pictures on the wall. He didn't see her photo. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or not. He wanted to find her, true. But the glow. The glow _hurt_ at the thought of her in this place.

"If you'd follow me, I'll show you what we have to offer," the Garog started to move into the next room. Spike could smell a variety of different female scents. He didn't smell hers, though. It'd been five years. Maybe it had changed. A lot had changed.

"Actually, I'm looking for something specific, mate. Heard a rumor around that you had a Slayer here," Spike met the Garog's eyes. Moment of truth time. If the Garog acted confused, then Spike would have to go home empty-handed. If not, then…

"How very appropriate," the Garog grinned, displaying tiny pointed teeth. "Yes, we do have _the_ Vampire Slayer here."

Five bloody years. Been looking five goddamn years and she'd been in a brothel on the other side of the fucking world. The glow wanted to cry. Spike just felt like bashing in the Garog's furry head. He restrained both urges.

"Let me see her," he said.

The Garog led him down a carpeted hall. Spike's nose was filled. Smells of sex. Menstruation. Shit. Women. Men. Other demons that didn't fit in either category. But with every step, he began to notice a familiar fragrance. Faint. Barely recognizable. But it was there. The soft aroma of Slayer sweat. Plus, the tingles down his spine that told him that a Slayer was around.

The Garog pushed open the final door in the hallway and ushered Spike into an exotically decorated room. Sheer veils and curtains decorated the walls, and there was even a clear fountain at the back of the room. Plushy cushions in gold and red were littered about. Reclining on a large stack of cushions in the center of the room was her.

Her glistening bronze skin was hidden underneath a thin, see-through wrap skirt. Small breasts encased in small strips of golden fabric, too skimpy to be called a bikini or a bra. Her face was heavily made-up so she looked like an Arabian princess of some sort, while her long, blonde hair was tossled and cascaded down her back.

She looked up as Spike entered the room, meeting his eyes. There was barely a spark of recognition at his appearance, though her mouth curved upwards as she assessed Spike's body. Her gaze turned lustful in an instant.

"She's our premium girl," the Garog explained. "A strong, warrior woman, made to fight demons. And she's eager to give you any pleasure you ask for."

Spike stepped forward. "Slayer?" he said softly, hoping to get a different response other than the one that he was getting. He could smell her arousal from where he stood.

"Would you be interested in her services?" the Garog asked.

Buffy was still undressing him with her eyes. Spike turned back to the smaller demon. "Actually, mate, I want to buy her."

The Garog clucked, a trait they had when annoyed. "She's not for sale. She's a prostitute, not a slave."

"Well, then, I want to buy her exclusive services permanently."

"Absolutely not! She's our big draw!"

Spike rolled his eyes. The glow screamed at him as Spike wrapped a hand around the Garog's scrawny neck, pinning it back against the wall. He didn't go into vamp-face, but his human guise was very menacing at the moment.

"Not up for negotiation here. I'll give you 10,000 keras, and I'll leave you and the other girls alive when I leave with her. That's how this is gonna happen. Got it?"

Trembling, the Garog nodded its head. Spike released it, letting the demon fall onto the floor. He turned back to Buffy, who was frowning at him. Walking forward, he reached her in a few long strides and grabbed her arm.

"Come on, pet. We're going back to my place."

She resisted, pulling slightly back, but not putting all of her Slayer strength into it. "I don't wanna go."

"You're happy being a hooker?" He looked down at her, noticing her dilated pupils and wandering gaze. The girl was drugged on something.

"I have a cushion here," she said.

"I got cushions." Spike tugged her again, more roughly this time. She stumbled forward as Spike reached into his pocket, tossing the keras at the Garog. "Thanks for the girl, mate."

Spike reached into his other pocket, pulling out the powder. He sighed while tossing it up into the air, reciting the magic words to teleport him and Buffy back to his home.

***

Spike was more prepared for the landing this time round. The room spun only a few times before he managed to sort himself and turn his attention to Buffy, who was gripping the back of his sofa for stability. Her legs were shaking from the teleport.

Shit. He'd have to get food for her. He didn't have much beyond blood and liquor in his hideaway.

He'd gotten the place three years ago. Claimed it after ousting the Rontarot demon that was inhabiting it. Dank, stone walls, shuttered windows, off the beaten path. Perfect home for a vampire in the world. Locals weren't too fond of his type. Especially not of him. Not since the glow.

Have to go out though. Clothing. Food. She'd need girly things. Keep her comfortable until he could figure out the portal business. Knew he needed her. Her and the glow. And some book that he couldn't find. He would. Given time.

"Wait," Buffy said, looking around at his living room. "No. No, take me back!" She turned and started toward the front door.

Spike grabbed her arm roughly, yanking her back. "It's not out there, Slayer. Your brothel is clear across the world. That powder was just one round-trip. No return."

She shook her head, obviously upset about being dragged away from that place. Figures. Five years and the bloody bint had learned to enjoy being a whore.

"Listen," he said. "I bought you, so you're staying here with me, yeh?"

Her demeanor changed in an instant at that. She looked at him, feral gleam in her eye as she smiled. She closed the distance between them, hips swinging in an enticing fashion. Without preamble, she placed her hands on his chest, running them down to cup his crotch, giving him a squeeze.

"I see," she whispered in his ear. "What are you gonna do with me?"

He remembered Sunnydale. Before they got stuck here. Following after the Slayer like a lovesick puppy. Stealing sweaters and doing just about everything to get her attention. It all came back to him as her hand added pressure to his growing erection. What he wouldn't have given then for this. Her done up like some sexual goddess, ready to fulfill his every dirty desire and then some. She wanted him, her smell permeated the air. Oh, he would have loved this then. But this was now.

His baser self yelled at him and he shoved her away, pushing her into the back of the couch. She looked confused at his reaction.

"Not gonna do that, pet," he said. The glow nodded in approval. How he hated that damned thing.

"Then what am I here for?" she asked.

He squinted. She didn't understand yet? "We're gonna try to go home. Back through the portal. You remember home, right?"

Blank stare from her. No luck. He had no luck in this world. Since the moment he'd arrived here, everything had gone wrong. Why should this be a surprise?

"You're probably tired. The teleport'll do that to you. Get some sleep. We'll talk in the morning." Plus, Spike could get some clothes and food for her while she slept.

"I'm sleeping all by my lonesome?" she challenged.

"Down the hall. Second door on the left. And yeh. I got my own room." He stared her down. Wasn't gonna give in to her charms. She'd hate him for it when she found herself again. Bloody glow.

Buffy reluctantly left to go to her room.

***

He'd had the portal dream again. Same bloody dream for years now. They'd finally opened the portal back home, and Spike was going through it. But Buffy couldn't get through. She was stuck, crying on the demon side, and Spike was trying to go back when the portal closed, separating them.

He hated when his mind couldn't come up with another dream for him.

Near as he could figure, there was one main difference between this world and his world: the Slayer. This world didn't have one. Never did. Whoever had made the first Slayer hadn't done so here so vampires and other demons took over. What few humans there were had been enslaved or gone underground. Vampires were regarded as vermin due to their large population. A lot of vampires kept a human slave alive rather than killing them to feed off. Others, like Spike, resorted to animal blood.

He'd grown used to it back in Sunnydale anyway.

He was having his morning cup of glorious pig's blood when Buffy wandered out of her bedroom. She was dressed in the jeans and modest shirt that Spike had laid out for her. The jeans were a size too large. They'd have to go out again. Money was getting low, and the annual thing wasn't for another few weeks.

Buffy wiped her runny nose, sniffling. Her eyes were red and her hands were fidgeting. She looked confused as to where she was. A far cry from the prettied-up thing she'd been yesterday. Brothel must have had some glamour cast on her to make her more attractive.

"Sleep well?" he asked as she entered the kitchen.

She shook her head quickly, inspecting the room. "Didn't."

"Didn't what?"

"Sleep."

Spike put his mug down. Shit. Girl was still on some high. "What you do all night?"

"Counted," she looked at him finally.

"Counted what?"

"Stones. Stones that make up the walls. There were 436 on the walls. I lost count on the floor. Stones kept moving. It's not right. They hide things in the walls. Things to spy on you," she was back to looking around the room.

"You hungry, pet?"

"No, no. Can't eat. Might be poison." She sat down cautiously on the edge of one of the seats, looking like she was about to bolt out of the room at any moment. "You're taking me back, right?"

He glanced at his notebook, full of all the information he'd gathered through the years about the portal. It was his instruction book in getting home. "Yeh. Take you back to your mum."

"No!" Buffy said loudly. She scooched her chair closer to Spike's. "I mean, back to Trevil. The Garog. My friend." She straddled one of Spike's legs, grinding herself down into his thigh and gripping his hair. "Take me back?"

Dammit. She was gonna have to stop doing this. Wasn't good for the glow. Wasn't good for his sanity. Her making bedroom eyes and rubbing against him, her knee teasing his groin.

"Or," she smiled, lowering her head to nibble on his earlobe. "Just take me."

Between her tongue dancing across his neck and his cock straining at his jeans, it took Spike a while to get himself sorted. Thinking with his higher brain, Spike grabbed Buffy by the waist and picked her up, setting her back down on the chair she'd just vacated.

His voice was probably a bit too gruff. "Now, now. None of that."

She sniffed.

Spike stood up to rinse out his mug. He could sense Buffy standing behind him.

"So, you don't play for girls anymore?" Buffy asked. "Prefer men now?"

He glared at her, not even dignifying that with a response.

"Or maybe it doesn't work anymore? Can't get it up?"

She damn well knew he could. Spike stepped toward her, grabbing her shoulders. "Enough of that. Just not gonna do that to you, pet."

She laughed. "Limp Dick Willy, you are! Can't really call you 'Spike' anymore, can we?"

He bit the inside of his cheek as he slapped her, barely conscious of the act. The glow disapproved. He didn't well care. Wanted her to shut up. Too much talking. He hadn't had this much noise in his place ever.

She flipped her hair out of her face and wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth, backing away from him with a gleam in her eye. She started laughing again. That damn cackle. Might have to gag her for some peace and quiet. That loud squawking was bound to give him a headache.

"You had a chip once," she said once her laughter had subsided.

He'd forgotten about that. He grinned. "Long gone." Easily removed in this world. Not that there was much point. Not many humans around for him to hurt.

She looked only slightly perturbed at the prospect that he could hurt her now. Spike remembered that he'd loved her. Hadn't he? Obsessed over her, surely. Been so long now, it was hard to remember what he'd seen in her while staring at the drug-addicted whore in front of him. She had been better then.

Buffy's eyes suddenly widened as if she were struck by an idea. "I'll walk back!" she said before turning to rush out of the kitchen.

She was making her way across the living room and to the front door when Spike caught her. "Walk where?"

"To Trevil."

Her pimp. "Luv, there's an ocean between here and there. You can't walk."

She shook out of his grasp. "I'm the Slayer. I'll swim. I need to get back."

Spike rolled his eyes as she turned around again to make another attempt to leave. He grabbed her, holding her against his chest to prevent her from moving any farther.

"You're gonna stay right here. Need you to get home," he said. She had started screaming and kicking, though, so it's not likely she heard him.

Wasn't using her full strength, which was a good thing. Though she turned in his arms, scratching at his face and kicking at his legs. He tried to catch her hands to calm her the fuck down but she just kept up with that awful shrieking.

Finally tiring of her tantrum, Spike grabbed her by the waist and lifted her, slinging her over his shoulder. She yelped, but quickly started pounding on his back to be let down, yelling various profanity in several different demon languages.

The glow didn't like any of this, but he didn't care. Damn thing could fuck off. Spike's sensitive ears were ringing from her screaming, and he didn't have time or patience to baby-sit her. He carried her swiftly back to her room and tossed her inside, leaving her sprawled on the floor.

Before she could scramble to her feet, he'd slammed the door and locked it. Door was designed to hold in an 8 foot demon. It would be able to withstand a tiny Slayer, no problem.

Of course, the pounding on the door started.

"Hey! Hey, let me out! I have to go! Please!" Bloody hell, she was crying. There was a shriek and what sounded like someone unsuccessfully kicking the door. "_Please!_"

He'd have to find something for the noise. A dampening spell or something to coat the room so he wouldn't have to listen to her. She'd calm down eventually.

The glow burned him as he walked back to the kitchen to fetch his notebook.

***

Spike lit his cigarette, inhaling slightly before marking down something in his notebook. The Slayer's screaming had died down hours ago, thank goodness. Nearly busted his ears. He had work to do. The portal.

Five years ago. Just after those Council wankers had left town, he and Buffy had been patrolling. Well, Buffy'd been patrolling. He'd been tagging along, trying to convince her to let him help. They'd come across some robed vampires doing some black magic in the cemetery. Course, a fight broke out, and then the portal opened. Spike couldn't remember who fell in first. Whoever did, took the other with them accidentally.

They didn't end up together, though. Portal spit them out in different places. Spike had spent the first year looking for her before giving up. He began to focus on getting back through the portal.

Was only when he realized he needed her to get back through to Sunnydale that he started looking again. Portal could only take them back to the same place and time that they'd left. To do that, though, it needed both of them. Spike couldn't go alone.

He'd been tempted to go alone once he saw Buffy's condition. He didn't have the patience to put up with her.

Problem was, he was trying to track down _how_ to open the portal. Seemed he needed some mythic book or some such to get some chant. Fucking magic. He'd hated the stuff back in his own world. He hated it even more here. Always fucked things up.

His own stomach growling reminded him that Buffy would need to eat. He sighed, putting his work to the side and standing to let her out. Hopefully, she would be too exhausted to put up a fuss.

The Slayer was lying in the bed when he opened the door. She was awake, but her eyes were glazed over. She lifted her head slightly at his entrance.

"You hungry?" he asked.

"Starving."

"Get your ass out here, then." He turned and walked to the kitchen, relying on her to fix her own damn food. No way was he gonna play housemaid to her.

She entered the kitchen as he heated up his own blood. She moved slowly, dragging her feet along the stone floor, as she rummaged through cupboards to put together a simple meal.

Spike leaned back against the counter to watch her as she sat down to eat. She sniffed, wiping snot off onto her sleeve. Real attractive. Bet the mucous demons loved her.

"I need to go out," she mumbled between bites.

"Out where?"

"Out."

"Looking to score some coke?" he asked.

She sniffed again at the mention of the stuff. Disgusting. Of all the drugs she had to pick.

"How you planning on paying for it?" he asked.

"I can get some," she said.

He snorted. "You mean you'll fuck for it."

She shrugged. "It'll work."

"You're not going out, and you're not going on that shit again. You're damn well staying here and you're staying clean. I don't wanna have to deal with some fucking cokehead bouncing around my place," he said. He rinsed his mug out. "Can't believe you'd screw around to score some drugs. Lost all semblance of self-respect, haven't you, Slayer? Disgrace to the calling, is what you are. Your drugs so precious to you?"

"At least _somebody'd_ be fucking me," she looked up in an accusing glare. "Don't knock the life till you tried it."

"Yeah," he scoffed, looking her up and down. "You're a good poster girl for 'the life'."

He left the kitchen to get his notebook again while Buffy finished her meal.

"After you're done eating, take a shower!" he called as he settled back in his chair, flipping open his notebook.

He could sense Buffy moving around behind him, and he guessed she was going to the bathroom. She still reeked of that whorehouse.

Tomorrow he'd be meeting up with Jory, his contact. Spike didn't have the best of reputations, so he couldn't go out and hunt for information himself so he hired some menial demon to do it for him. He was looking for the Book of Langlar which, according to his notes, had information about opening a portal. Jory had been trying to up his price lately, the fucking bastard. Spike wouldn't let him get away with that. Bad enough he had to live as a fucking recluse.

He registered the sound of water, and then he heard wet, padding footsteps coming from behind him. He turned in his seat to see a wet Slayer wrapped in one of his towels.

She was skinny now. So skinny. Almost no tits that he could see beneath the towel. Her hair was a ragged wet mop on her head, and she had rising goosebumps all around her body.

"Water's cold," she said.

"I know. There's no hot water."

"I can't take a shower in cold water."

He raised an eyebrow. "Well, you sure as hell aren't stinking up my place anymore. Get your ass back in there and wash up."

She attempted a stare-down, but her heart must not have been into it. She turned and went back into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Spike sighed while staring at the puddle of water she'd left.

He hadn't had a woman in years.

***

He hadn't meant to dream about her. He hadn't in years. But he supposed the image of her wet, towel-clad body had sunk into his subconscious, and he had dreams of her lying naked on top of him, grinding herself on his erection. The Buffy of his dream wasn't the Buffy that was staying with him now, though. No, it was the Slayer from five years ago. Full-bodied, toned muscles, pert breasts bouncing up and down as she teased him with a stake, cruel tongue dancing across his nipples. He groaned, feeling himself close to cumming.

Something woke him up, though. It wasn't anything in particular. He just awoke before completion, and became fully aware of his throbbing erection under the sheets. Fuck. He'd have to take care of that.

First, though, he had to take care of his night visitor. He glanced to the side, noticing Buffy sitting beside him on the bed wearing only a tattered robe. Her hair was mussed from sleep and she had bags under her eyes. Not nearly the goddess from his dream.

"What you doing up?" He propped himself up on his elbows, annoyed at her entering his room. He hadn't thought to lock her in her room tonight. Instead, he'd just secured the front door so she couldn't get out of the house.

"You need help with that?" She ignored his question, eyes focused on the outline of his hard on.

He sighed. "Told you we're not doing that, pet."

"Why?"

Because the fucking glow wouldn't let him. "Be taking advantage - "

"Not if I'm asking you to do it," she said, scooching closer to him. The robe rode up further along her thigh, exposing more of her skin. Not as tanned as she used to be. The glow was still objecting, but his dick was screaming at him to ignore it. "How long's it been since you had a woman?" Buffy asked.

Fucking long enough.

Spike growled in response to the glow's protests and grabbed Buffy, flipping her onto her back and opening the robe. She grunted, reaching her hand down to grasp his dick. He had to bite down on her nipple to keep from groaning aloud. It had been so long.

He roughly worked his hand down her body, thrusting two fingers into her pussy. Already wet. Good. He didn't feel like foreplay.

Spike turned her onto her stomach, grabbing her by the hips and raising her ass into the air. Buffy responded eagerly by spreading her legs for him. His fingers dug tighter into her skin as Spike entered her in a single thrust. She moaned loudly.

He leaned forward to grab her by one shoulder, pumping into her hard and fast. His other arm wrapped around her stomach to raise her up a bit.

"Yeah," Buffy cooed. "That's it. Fuck me harder with your big dick."

Spike growled, grabbing her by the throat and pausing. "None of that. I'm not a bloody John of yours and I don't need the fucking fake porn talk." Her breath came fast, but she was silent. "Just be you." He pushed her back down onto her elbows.

She moaned when he started thrusting again, but she didn't start any of that damn dirty talk again. Didn't sound right coming from her. He didn't need her fake moaning. He could pleasure a woman without her faking anything.

Her hips were slamming back to meet him as he fucked her though. "Harder," she whispered between grunts.

Spike smiled, pressing her shoulders down onto the mattress to raise her ass up even higher. He held her down, bending one knee to change the angle of his thrusts. Buffy was getting louder and louder with her (very real) moans. Spike moved the hand that had been gripping her hip and cautiously circled it around her ass, pushing a finger inside.

Buffy screamed. Her body shuddered around him and then she froze for a few seconds as her inner muscles spasmed, constricting around his dick. He grunted, thrusting faster as he felt himself going over the edge with her. He came quickly, giving one more hard pump into her pussy before withdrawing.

He sat back on his knees while Buffy collapsed onto her side, gasping for air. Spike grinned, flipping the bird to the glow and laying down beside her. He wasn't out of breath, of course, but his body was still reeling from the experience. So long without another person. He felt like he'd touched heaven. Funny that heaven was a coke whore in this case.

She stared at him with a lazy, sated smile. That's about when the guilt hit him. Fucking glow.

Whether he was taking money from her or not, he'd still just used her for his own pleasure. Wasn't right. Hell, it could have been any bint in bed with him, and he would have done the same thing.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

He sighed, looking up at the ceiling. Life had been simpler in fucking Sunnydale. Oh, that was a laugh. "Shouldn't have done this," he replied.

She propped herself up on one elbow. "Since when did you become Mr. Morals?"

He glanced at her. She wasn't even bothering to try to cover herself. She had fading bruises on her body. He hadn't noticed in the heat of the moment. He wondered if he'd hurt her. He'd been rough.

_She's the Slayer, you nit. She can kick your ass halfway round the world._

The glow still disapproved.

She'd asked him a question? Oh yeah.

"Probably about the same time you lost yours," he mumbled, trying not to look at her bruised flesh anymore.

"I didn't lose anything."

He grinned. "Yeah? So you would have given it up this easily back in Sunnydale?"

"It's just sex. Nothing wrong with it." She pulled the sheet up to cover herself, shivering slightly as the cold set in. "I don't kill people or anything."

"Yeah, neither do I."

"Why not?"

He raised an eyebrow, looking back at her. "Why what?"

She shrugged. "You don't have a chip anymore. Why don't you kill people?"

Cause it's wrong? Cause they don't deserve it? Cause he'd rather kill the buggering demons? Cause the fucking glow kept him from doing it? Cause the very thought of hurting a person sickened him at the same time it excited him?

Spike shrugged. "Dunno." She was still looking at him expectantly. "Can I sleep now or are you waiting for me to toss some money at you?"

She frowned before making an angry huffing noise and tossing the sheet off her. Without a word, she grabbed her robe and left his room.

Spike sighed, turning over to go to sleep. Something had been wrong with that. Well, besides the obvious. What it was, however, was somehow just on the edge of his mind.

Her bruises. Old, faded bruises from her time at _La Ratugabe_. She's the Slayer. Shouldn't those have healed by now?

***

Jory lived in the north part of town along with his fellow Grenarians. They were scavenger demons. They fed on leftovers and scraps, picking through others' trash to find things for their own use. They were able to move quickly and stealthily, and other demons didn't give them a second thought. They were part of the background.

Spike had met Jory in a bar years ago before he'd gotten the glow. He'd hired him on to be his eyes and ears into places that Spike had no access to. Jory was information.

He also lived in a shithole. Grenarians were pack demons; they lived together. Spike made his way through the abandoned building this pack called home. The stench of rotting carcasses made Spike almost queasy, but he could withstand it. Jory was standing in the corner, looking nervously back and forth as Spike approached.

The rest of Jory's pack would be out, hunting for whatever food they could find. They'd kick Jory out if they knew he was dealing with a vampire.

"Hiya, Spike," Jory said, jaw jittering. He was a reptilian demon. Hunched over with large claws that clacked together on occasion. Very unassuming. You could pass him by without a second glance.

"Whatcha got for me?" Spike asked.

Jory's claws clicked. "Nothing. Ain't heard nothing."

Spike raised an eyebrow. "Why you so nervous?"

Jory displayed his teeth in a display of humility. "You know what could happen if the others catch me meeting you."

"Uh-huh. And you found nothing?"

"Right."

Spike started to extract the 500 keras from his pocket, wondering why he was bothering keeping this guy on retainer. Jory's claws clacked again as he held his hands out to accept the money. Spike paused. "You sure?"

"Course I'm sure. Why would I lie to you?"

Spike took a step closer. "You tell me."

More clicking. Jory was nervous as fuck, and Spike knew that he had to have found something.

"Listen," Jory said, eyes darting. "If he finds out I told you, he'll kill me and my family. I can't."

"Who?"

"I can't!"

Spike went into vamp-face, ramming a fist into Jory's gut and slamming him back against the wall. "If you don't tell me what you found out, then _I'll_ kill you and your family. Right here. Right now. Got it?"

Jory nodded, eyes shut in panic. "Dehevret. I was in his area. He has the Book of Langlar in his vaults. He saw me. If he knows I told then -"

"Dehevret?" Spike repeated. Dehevret was a higher up in the demon world. Ruled quite a bit of the land and had a lot of the population under his imposing thumb. Jory was right to be scared of the guy. What the fuck was he doing with a book about portals?

Spike released Jory, who exhaled in relief. This meant things were gonna change soon. If Spike was having to get help from Dehevret, then he'd have to make some new arrangements and soon. For one, he'd have to get the money sooner than he'd planned.

He looked at Jory. "Thanks for the info, mate. You've been a help."

Before Jory could reply, Spike reached his hands out and twisted the other demon's head sharply, snapping the spine. He let the body fall to the floor.

Burning bridges. He wouldn't be coming back.

***

To say that Spike was surprised at finding another vampire in his home was an understatement. He had his place thoroughly locked down, inside and out, in order to keep intruders away and to keep Buffy in. Walking in to see a youngish vampire pulling on his shirt while walking out of Buffy's room was beyond irritating. It pissed the hell out of him.

"Who the fuck are you?" Spike was across the room in an instant, backing the other vamp into a corner to intimidate him into talking.

The vamp just smiled, unperturbed. "Name's Stef. I work for Ugvan."

Ah. Ugvan. The bloke that Spike had gotten the glow from. Spike still owed him several payments on that.

"How'd you get in here?" Spike asked. He glanced aside, noticing Buffy emerge from her room wearing only a short t-shirt. She leaned against the wall, covered in the smell of sex.

Stef shrugged. "Ugvan has ways of making doors open. Especially when there're debts to be collected." He looked over at Buffy. "I was just enjoying your hospitality while I waited."

"What debt?" Buffy asked, wiping her nose.

Spike was just about to open his mouth to tell her to shut up, but Stef interrupted him. "Spike owes for a little procedure Ugvan did years ago. He's late on his payment."

"Procedure?" Buffy looked at Spike. "The chip?"

"Chip?" Stef replied. "What chip?"

"I haven't got the money," Spike interrupted before that conversation went any farther. He didn't need Buffy knowing about the glow.

Stef's attention was back on him. "Ugvar won't like that."

Well, it was the truth. He'd spent most of his money on the magic dust to get Buffy. And now he'd have to save everything he had left for when he visited Dehevret.

"Sorry, mate." Spike shrugged. "Plus, I don't really care much for you fucking my houseguest."

Stef frowned right before Spike stabbed a wooden stake through his heart. The vampire dusted. Always handy to have a wooden stake around.

Now it would mean that Ugvar would be after him about the fucking debt, but Spike couldn't be bothered about that. He'd be leaving anyhow. Best wishes to Ugvar in finding him.

When he looked at Buffy, she was still leaning against the wall, unmoved by the dusting.

"Did you have to fuck him?" Spike asked. He wasn't sure why that bothered him. It shouldn't have. But it did.

"I needed a fix," she said.

"What, he promise you one?"

She shrugged. "Please, can I go out and get some stuff?"

He shook his head. "We're going, but not to get drugs for you. Got some work to do to get home."

"I don't wanna go home," she said.

"Well, I do. And I need you to do it, so you're coming with me."

She wasn't looking at him. Her gaze was on the floor. "Please, Spike. I just need a fix."

He stepped toward her, grabbing her chin and forcing her to make eye contact with him. "No, you don't. You're strong." He released her chin and walked past her. "Get your stuff together. We're leaving tomorrow night to get some money. We won't be back."

_tbc..._


	2. Subverted Identity

**Chapter Two: Subverted Identity**

It wasn't that bad once you got used to it. Hooking. It hadn't been Buffy's first career choice upon ending up in this other world, but there weren't many other options for a human.

Oh, she had tried to go underground. Fight the good fight. The Slayer against a world full of demons. But even the strongest ant can't take over the house alone. There just weren't enough humans left. It took a while, but she had been caught.

It could have been worse. She could have been used as a chewtoy for a vamp. That would be the ultimate humiliation for the Vampire Slayer.

The other alternative was to be a working girl. It wasn't something she had volunteered for. The group of fellow humans she was with had been ambushed. The men had been killed. The women were sold to the brothel.

She hadn't made it easy for them. She'd fought so hard, but she couldn't escape. After a while, she felt herself drifting farther and farther away from who she had been. That made it easier. So did the drugs.

The drug thing. She hadn't sought them out. They were just all around her. Every day. And she'd watch the other girls free themselves of their misery by taking them. Buffy had wanted that freedom from herself. So when one of the girls had offered her some coke, she'd taken it. She erased herself.

Then Trevil had come and bought her. _La Ratugabe_ was a massive improvement from the dive she'd been in before. Trevil had cared for her. Given her drugs for free. Made sure none of the clients had gotten too out of hand. Unlike the other place. With Trevil, she was the "premium girl". She was treated to every luxury available.

It was the best place the world had to offer her.

Buffy watched Spike as he slept. She hated him for taking her away from it. She wanted to go back; she needed to go back. She needed a fix. Her body ached. Every thought led her back to coke and how long it had been for her. Okay, not long, but longer than she'd gone for a while. She felt like she'd die if she didn't get anymore.

Damn vampire. She couldn't figure him out.

He mumbled to himself. She wasn't sure if he was even aware of it, but he did. She'd watch him sit with his notebook, talking under his breath. She didn't remember him doing that back in Sunnydale.

Though she didn't remember much from Sunnydale.

Occasionally, images would flash through her mind. Places, people. But her mind would shut it off.

She hadn't seriously thought about it in a long time. It almost felt like a dream. She felt like she'd always been here, in this world.

They would leave when the sun went down. Spike had some grand plan to get them "home". The thought terrified her.

She'd go with him for now. She wouldn't last long on her own in this world. She'd just have to wait for the right opening to get back to Trevil. Spike couldn't keep her on a leash all the time.

Moving slowly, Buffy walked over to the bed, crawling across to settle beside Spike's body. He'd annoyed her back in Sunnydale. She remembered that. He annoyed her now. He got mad at her for how she acted. He got mad because she wasn't like she had been.

She had to keep reminding him that she was different now.

Buffy pulled the sheet down, exposing Spike's body. She'd seen a lot of naked demons over the years. She had found it best to distance herself from the act. She wasn't fucking all those demons. Instead, she was watching through glass as they fucked her. It was detached, impersonal. It wasn't connected to her. It was the only way she had learned how to do it over and over again. Spike was no different. Except now, instead of for money, she was doing it to prove a point.

His limp dick jumped to life in her hand as she grasped it. He remained asleep as she moved down, lowering her mouth onto his cock. She sucked hard, knowing that he could take a rough blowjob. She heard him groan and shift in his sleep while his dick got firmer in her mouth.

Up and down, she bobbed, hand stroking in rhythm. She knew he was awake when she felt his hand in her hair, and he whispered "Fuck". She didn't stop. She looked up the length of his body. His head was tilted back, and she couldn't see his face from her angle. She smiled and hummed, swirling her tongue around the tip before taking in as much of him as she could.

Of course she knew how to give an expert blowjob. It's not like she was lacking in experience. Though Spike probably wouldn't have cared if she'd been a novice. She could tell from the day before that he hadn't had any in a while. He'd been so desperate and primal when he'd taken her. She'd almost actually enjoyed herself.

"Buffy." His hand gripped her hair harder as his hips jerks upward. "Gonna cum."

She pushed him back down onto the bed, stroking him faster. "Mmm-hmm," she replied, mouth still around him.

He groaned, crying another swear word before his hips rose and he came in her mouth. She swallowed on instinct, waiting for him to come down from his orgasm.

When he finally collapsed back onto the bed, Buffy released him and crawled back to the head of the bed to lie beside him. She hadn't even bothered with a robe this time.

Spike squinted at her for a few moments. "What was that for?"

She shrugged. "Had a craving."

He broke eye contact and looked down at her body. He stroked a bruise on her stomach gently, just barely touching it. "Where'd you get those bruises, pet?"

"Demons can get a little rough when they play."

He shook his head. "Bruises shouldn't last this long on a Slayer."

Point proven. She wasn't exactly the Slayer anymore, was she? After all, the Slayer wouldn't suck William the Bloody's cock while he slept.

When she didn't reply, he questioned further. "Did I bruise you before?"

Yes, when he'd dug his fingers into her hips as he pounded into her from behind. Did he actually care? "When we go out in the evening, can we stop to get me some stuff?" she asked hopefully.

"That what the blowjob was for?"

"That a yes or a no?"

He rolled his eyes, turning away from her. "You can spend the night here s'long as you don't wake me up again."

"Where are we going?"

"To get money."

That didn't really answer her question, but she leaned back against the pillows and closed her eyes anyway. Spike obviously wasn't eager to talk to her. Not surprising. He'd been alone a long time. He'd gotten used to it.

***

One would think that a world where humans weren't the reigning species would look very different. Well, it did so far as its population went. However, Buffy had found through the years that, given time, demons had invented many of the same things that humans had. Vehicles, cigarettes, fast food, bureaucracy, and drugs were just many of those similar items. They weren't identical, by any means. And demon civilization was noteworthy in that it had no organized government. However, there was a certain order to things.

Spike and Buffy sat in the cramped car of the train. They shared a small duffel of supplies, which was all Spike allowed them to take. He'd refused to tell Buffy where they were going; he'd only mentioned that it would be several hours before they reached their destination.

It would have been cheaper to just get a regular seat, but Spike hadn't wanted to be seen. A vampire and a human traveling together would draw attention. Vampires don't travel, generally. If they paid a bit more money, they could get a car to keep the onlookers away.

Buffy sighed. She missed Trevil. She glanced at Spike, who was scribbling in his journal while mumbling under his breath.

"Why are you so eager to get back to Sunnydale?" she asked.

His hand paused. "That a trick question?" He regarded her.

"It's a world full of demons. Thought you'd like it here," she said.

He shook his head. "The world's disgusting." He looked back down at his notebook. "I like humans. Not enough of them here. World's not any fun without them."

She had a memory jump to the front of her mind at his words. She laughed, suddenly seeing it again as if it had just happened a moment ago. Spike set the notebook down on his lap and frowned at her.

"What the fuck are you laughing at?"

"'Happy meals on legs.' That's what you called us once." She grinned.

He stared at her in disbelief for a few more seconds before a small grin formed on his face. "Yeah, I think I remember that."

She turned to face him, placing a hand on his thigh and slowly moving it up towards his crotch. She leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "Am _I_ your happy meal on legs now?"

When she glanced at his face, his eyes were focused on the outline of her breasts through her shirt. "Suppose you are," he said.

"Then," she kissed his neck. "Once you get that money. You could keep me happy by buying me some - "

Spike growled and shoved her away from him, slamming her against the wall of the car.

"One-track mind with you, pet, isn't there? Either drugs, sex, or both."

She pouted, keeping from making eye contact. Dredging up old memories from Sunnydale was uncomfortable. She'd tried to use it to her advantage, but Spike was still too volatile. She had to be careful. Without the chip, he could hurt her. She didn't want to provoke him into that.

Buffy sighed, resting her head against the side of the car as Spike picked his notebook back up. She closed her eyes, listening to the hum of the train moving quickly and enjoying the gentle rocking motion that accompanied it.

Her mind was more clear now than it had been in a while, but Spike was right. There was only one thing on her mind. She had to get some drugs. Now that the haze had lifted, she started remembering things that she'd rather forget. Memories of Sunnydale and friends on the other side of that portal. She didn't want to think about them. The drugs would make sure that she didn't. They'd never failed her before.

Spike wouldn't let her get away. She didn't know why she was so important, but he said he needed her to open the portal. She'd have to find some way to leave him before he could get to that point.

***

It had been a long walk. Longer than Buffy had walked in a while. She was almost tempted to sit down and force Spike to carry her in protest, but she lacked the energy to even put up a tantrum.

Needless to say, she was grateful as they came around the hill and the large stone building came into view. She glanced at Spike, who was mumbling something to himself.

"So we're getting money here?" Buffy asked. "Doesn't look like a bank."

Spike shrugged. "Close enough."

"You're not gonna tell me anything, are you?"

"Not unless you stop acting like a bitch."

Buffy fell silent. Well, mainly because she had stumbled over a rock. The terrain was hilly with dying patches of grass scattered about. The scarce moonlight didn't make it any easier for her to see. At least it was warm. Spike's place was freezing.

 

As they approached the building, a demon came running out to meet them. Buffy didn't recognize the type. It had lots of loose skin and floppy ears. Whatever it was, she'd never seen one visit the brothel.

"Spike!" the demon said. "You're early. Very, very early."

"Yeh," Spike replied, continuing to walk towards the door. The demon sped up to follow. "Listen, Lowell, got a bit of a situation come up. Gonna need your contribution now."

They entered the building, coming into a large foyer with a staircase leading to a balcony and hallway. The room was lit by torches and there were old, ratty pieces of furniture lying around. Buffy was enjoying the sound of her shoes stepping on the stone floor when she noticed a human approaching from one of the rooms.

It was an adult man. He looked in fairly good health, as far as humans go. Buffy hadn't seen another one in a while, honestly. Well, she'd seen the other girls in the brothel, but men? No. Hadn't seen one of those. Must be a servant.

"It's too early, Spike," the demon, Lowell, said, moving to face Spike. "We don't have all the money yet."

Spike huffed a sigh of irritation. "You don't have all the money?"

"No."

"What money?" Buffy asked.

"Shut your gob," Spike said, barely glancing at her. "Not your business." He turned back to Lowell. "Let me see your coffers."

Lowell shook his head, floppy ears wagging as he did so. "Sorry, Spike, but - "

Spike went into vamp-face, stepping closer to the other demon. He growled, glancing at Lowell's neck. "I won't ask again."

The other demon was shaking, but he turned and motioned to the human. Buffy folded her arms, watching the tense scene with just a tiny bit of concern. She thought Spike was a goody-goody here. This was unexpected.

The human returned with a large wooden chest and set it down on an unvarnished table. Spike kept his game face on and stepped up to the chest, breaking the lock easily and tossing the lid open.

His eyes widened. "Been holding out on me, Lowell. Looks like you got my money right here."

"No!" Lowell ran to the chest, trying to put himself between it and Spike. "I mean, we do, but some of that has to go to our own. It's for food and clothing. We need it to keep this shelter going. We're expecting to bring in some more funds in two weeks time. That will go to you - "

"Or," Spike shoved Lowell aside and reached into the chest. He started gathering the money into the duffel. "I could take my share now and you lot will just have to figure out a way to deal with what's left for the next couple weeks."

"We'll have no food!"

Spike paused, grabbing Lowell by the collar. "Do you _want_ me to tell the local slavers where your shelter is? I bet they'll pay me well for the information…"

Lowell shook his head. Spike released him and finished filling the duffel.

Right, so Spike wasn't a saint here. Buffy wasn't certain as to why, but she felt uncomfortable with this. She knew that there were a few shelters for humans run by sympathetic demons. They were well-hidden and hard to get to normally. She sometimes wished she'd been able to find one before she'd been taken into the brothel.

But the shelter was a safe place. It felt wrong to threaten to reveal their location to get money from them.

And Buffy could have laughed at herself, trying to pass moral judgment on a demon in this world. Still, she'd thought that Spike was, at least, sympathetic towards humans. Maybe he was just too self-centered to care now.

Spike was finally finished, and he turned back to Lowell. "Sun's coming up. We're taking the tunnels out." He raised the duffel. "Thanks for your contribution."

Lowell didn't look up. He just shook his head, looking into the chest to try to count what little remained of their money.

The tunnels were a typical, underground sprawl of a maze. They weren't sewers. No, demons weren't organized enough for a sewer system. But there were plenty of demons that lived underground, and they had built their own world underneath the surface. Spike's heavy boots echoed down the vast corridors, and Buffy heard the constant scutter of the inhabitants of the tunnels.

Spike was mumbling to himself again. Buffy sighed. "I thought you were better than that," she said. They were passing through the remnants of some demon's habitat. Debris cluttered the area.

He didn't stop walking. "Better than what?"

"Taking money from people who need it. Guess you are just like all the others." She didn't know why that disappointed her so much. She hadn't thought that she'd had any romantic notions about Spike.

"_We_ need the money," he said.

She sniffed. "Right. To go 'home'."

He stopped abruptly, whipping around to face her. "Damn right. Know it's not what you want, pet, but I don't give a bloody fuck about your wants right now. I'm going home. I need the money and _you_ to do it. So you might as well quit your whinging."

Spike continued walking again, acting as if that were the end of the conversation.

Buffy crossed her arms. "And if I refuse? If I sit down right here and refuse to move?"

"Then I kill you and drag your carcass around with me," he snarled. He turned slightly. "Don't get any delusions about me protecting you. You're only useful to me for one reason."

Spike kept walking, but Buffy stopped. He wouldn't protect her. He didn't give a damn one way or another. For some reason, he just needed her body to get the portal open.

Her reason for staying with him was suddenly rendered null and void. She'd be better off away from this insane vampire and his one-track mind.

There was a bar of piping off to the side. Buffy picked it up, hefting the weight. She closed the distance between her and Spike, swinging as hard as she could and bringing the pipe down across his back.

He yelped, stumbling and turning around quickly. Before she could even blink, the pipe was ripped from her hands and she was pinned to the tunnel wall, Spike's hand around her throat. He was crushing her windpipe, and she gasped for air, kicking her legs at him uselessly.

Black clouds swam in her vision, slowly covering the image of his angry expression. Then she was released. The wall behind her disappeared as she fell to her knees on the floor, hand to her throat as she took huge lungfuls of air in. All she could hear was her own blood pounding in her ears. It had been a long time since she'd looked death in the eye.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Spike's voice sounded like it was coming down a wind tunnel. Buffy ignored him, continuing to suck in as much air as possible. "Where's your Slayer strength?"

She closed her eyes but was unable to keep the images out. The storm covering the sky as she was forced onto the altar by demons. The ropes that bound her cut into her wrists. Candles dripped wax around her head, and the strong stench of magic overwhelmed her. Demons all around.

Buffy stopped breathing, but she didn't look up at Spike. "They took it," she told him.

The demons who'd captured her had been terrified of her power. They knew that the Slayer was a threat to their world. They wanted to get rid of her. But what they did had been worse than killing her.

The wax. Hot wax had dripped on her ear during the ritual. The mage stood over her head, reciting chants that would seal her powers, and all Buffy could think about at the time was the hot wax coating her ear. Until the spell kicked in. She felt as if a hole had been opened up in her, leaving a gaping, sucking wound. She'd screamed in pain. She'd screamed in fear. She'd screamed in anger. She grasped for her powers, but they folded in on themselves. Her body was weakened. The strength and power that she'd been bestowed with were gone after that. And to add insult to injury, the demons had turned her over to the brothel.

Buffy stood, refusing to look at Spike. "They took it," she repeated, more to herself than to him. She didn't often think back to that. She usually tried to avoid thinking about that.

"How?"

When she did finally look at him, he didn't look like he was making fun of her. She shrugged. "Sealing spell."

"So your powers are still there, right? Just sealed."

 

"Guess so." Not that it mattered.

"Right," he said. "This'll be easier if you can hold your own against any nasties that come our way. Once we meet with Dehevret, we'll track down some magic-doer who can undo the sealing spell."

She blinked, looking sharply at him. What he was talking about - getting her powers back - was something she'd given up on long ago. Just like going home. The thought never even occurred to her, not even as a fantasy or a dream. Instead, she'd learned to accept the reality of her situation. What he was proposing…it would change that. It would change everything.

She sniffed. "I still don't wanna go home."

"We'll deal with that later. Let's camp out for the day, get some rest, yeah?"

She nodded, looking behind her to carefully sit back down against the same wall he'd had her pinned against not a few minutes ago. She continued to look straight ahead as he sat next to her.

"Why don't you wanna go home?" he asked.

"I liked it at the brothel. It was safe." Her reality was changing, though. Thanks to Spike. He'd taken her out of the safety of that one place, and was forcing her to try to adapt again. She didn't want to. She wanted nothing more than to be back at the brothel.

She needed a fix. Her hands were shaky. Beside her, Spike had closed his eyes and was drifting off to sleep. He held the strap to the duffel bag loosely at his side.

She could take the money and leave. Find a dealer. Surrender herself back to that drug-induced bliss and forget about Spike's crazy schemes. It's the life she'd lived for the past several years. It was like an old, tattered blanket that she didn't want to let go of, despite the fact that it didn't really keep her warm.

But getting her powers back. Being strong again. Being _Buffy_ again. Wouldn't that be worth it? To give up the comfort of her known world to be the Slayer again? She'd been brave once, long ago.

Spike lightly snored, his hand releasing the duffel strap in his sleep.

Buffy made a choice.

_tbc..._


	3. Power

**Chapter Three: Power**

She was gone when he woke up.

Spike hadn't meant to fall asleep. He couldn't afford to waste time on sleeping. Not with Ugvan's men after him about the payment for his operation. Being around the Slayer exhausted him, though. He had to try to keep up with her, figure out what the hell she was blathering on about. Plus, dealing with her persistent hostility and defiance. Who was it who said "Hell is other people"? Some smart bloke, that's for sure. Spike was stuck in his own version of hell with a Slayer who was _not_ a Slayer anymore. That wouldn't do. He was certain that he'd need to get that fixed before they could cross back over.

So he'd fallen asleep.

And now she was gone. As was his bag full of the money he'd been planning to offer Dehevret in exchange for the book he needed.

Bitch.

He sensed it as he was standing up, though. A heartbeat thumping calmly a few dozen yards ahead of him in the tunnel. Spike walked through the darkness to approach the small figure curled up against the wall. Buffy was asleep, duffel bag by her side. He could tell at a glance that the bag was still full. Looked like she had a change of heart. Good. He may have threatened to kill her earlier, but he couldn't actually do that. Not if he wanted to get back to the other world.

"Hey," he said in an attempt to wake her up. It didn't work. He kicked her foot lightly with his boot. "Slayer."

She stirred this time, squinting in the dim light as she tried to get her bearings. Her face scrunched up in a yawn as she stretched, arms raised overhead. Spike watched her shifting body, irrationally fixated on the tiny movements she made as she woke up. It was hard to see most of the time. But sometimes, he actually recognized her as the girl he'd known in Sunnydale. A lithe beauty. There'd be a tiny movement or sound she'd make that would just be _Buffy_. He wanted to see more of that.

"The ground softer there, pet, or were you planning on running off on me?" he asked.

She blinked the last remnants of sleep from her eyes. Her eyes flew to the duffel and then back to him as if she were surprised to find herself there. She stood up, feet scraping against the ground as she hefted the duffel onto her shoulder more securely.

"I didn't run," she said. "I thought about it. But I didn't. Okay?"

He tilted his head. "Why not?"

"Huh?"

"Why didn't you run?"

She stood still as a statue for a few moments. Spike was about ready to just shrug it off and forget about it when she answered. "Because you may scare me…but I scare myself even more."

As far as cryptic answers go, that ranked high up on his list. Must be the withdrawal.

"You're scared of me?" he asked, going for the obvious.

She frowned. "That's not what I meant. It's…the things you're doing…"

He allowed his gaze to run over her body. The glow protested, but he growled at the bloody thing. "Thought you liked the things I do…"

He barely noticed as she backed against the wall. Instead, he raised a hand and ran it down her side, her hip, her thigh. Stepping closer, he pressed his body against hers, searching for that desire that she'd shown for him before. Her breathing was tight, and he could hear her heart beating quickly. She inhaled sharply as he groped her breast through her shirt.

He was shaken by the glow screaming sirens at him. He blinked, realizing that he couldn't smell Buffy's arousal. Her heart wasn't beating out of desire; it was beating out of fear. She was staring down at the floor beside him, arms at her side. A far cry from the sex kitten he'd had at his place before.

Spike backed away a couple paces quickly, breathing heavily. It wasn't just the glow inside him that was horrified at the scene. She'd been used enough. Now he was trapping her against a wall and assaulting her? Dammit, she wasn't supposed to act like that. She'd started the whole fucking thing between them anyway.

Wasn't right, though. She'd changed her mind somehow. Didn't want him now. Fine, then. He'd gone without for five years. He could do it again. The glow approved. His cock didn't. Fucking glow.

"Let's go. Got a bit of a trek ahead of us," he said before turning. He didn't say a word about what had just happened.

Neither did she. "Where are we going?" Buffy caught up to him.

Yesterday, he wouldn't have told her. Today, though…

Fucking glow.

"Big boss type," he explained. "Name's Dehevret. He has operations round the world. Word has it he's got a book I need to get a portal open back to our world."

He sensed her heart speed up when he mentioned going home. The thought still frightened her. She didn't say anything about it, though.

"And the money is to pay for the book?" she asked.

"The money is an offering." Spike glanced at her. "Listen, this guy's dangerous. You gotta brownnose or you aren't getting nothing. He's well-protected, too. Just getting in to see him's gonna take some work on my part. So don't go fucking things up by acting like a mad hatter. You just keep quiet and follow my lead."

"Yeah, cause you're so personable." He could hear the frown in her voice.

"I'm personable," he protested.

She looked at him skeptically.

"I am!"

She shrugged. "Okay, Mr. Grouchy. You're just overflowing with likeability."

The exchange should have left him irritated with her. Instead, he found a comfortable familiarity with it.

***

He'd never been to Dehevret's before. But any demon worth his weight in blood knew where he was. And most of them knew well and good to stay away from him. Spike needed a favor, however, and he had few other options.

There was an underground entrance to accommodate the subterranean demons. The tunnels opened into a huge circular room. The walls were covered with scrawled runes, dripping various potions for enchantments. A symbolic hawk adorned the floor, to protect and watch for enemies.

Standing guard before the overly large double doors were a pair of Gregnal demons. They were smarter than your average muscle. Dehevret had to make sure to get guards who would be able to grant admission when needed, after all.

Without hesitation, Spike walked up to the guards. He found his stride quickly, reverting back to his old poise as best he knew how. Buffy didn't know what the hell she was talking about. He was _very_ personable.

"I'm here to see Dehevret," he announced.

The guard to the right replied, "He's not expecting any vampires." The guard sneered as he spat out the last word. Great. Spike just had to run into a demon who didn't like vamps. Damn racism. "What's your business?"

Spike signaled to Buffy to come forward. "I have an offering for him." Buffy held out the duffel while Spike unzipped it, displaying the piles of money to the two guards.

They didn't look impressed. Fuck.

"Your business is to give him an offering?" the guard asked.

Spike closed the bag. "He has a book I need. I'd like to negotiate a trade for it."

The guard laughed, displaying jagged, yet well-maintained, teeth. "You want to see Dehevret to get a _book_?"

"The Book of Langlar, yeah."

Both the guards' composures changed in an instant. Spike tried not to frown, but it was difficult. He hadn't expected a response like that.

"Why do you want that book?"

He heard Buffy huff behind him. Before he could stop her, she'd stepped in front of him.

"Does it matter?" she asked. "We got money. Just let us see the guy to ask him about the fucking book!" She walked away, waving her hand. "Demons are always so dramatic. All with the formal shit."

Spike nervously watched to make sure Buffy wouldn't be punished for her outburst. The guards seemed more curious than anything, though. With a silent look at one another, they stepped aside. The guard on the right opened the door.

"Wait in the foyer. You'll be called back when Dehevret is ready to see you," the guard explained.

Buffy bound in ahead of him, obviously happy that her method had worked. Spike rolled his eyes as he followed her in.

They were in an octagonal room. A single door stood at the opposite end and around the walls were benches. The benches were full of demons. Demons sitting, laying down, reading paperbacks. Some were on the floor, passing a crossword back and forth.

Damn. There was a queue to see the guy.

Buffy was looking around. The rest of the demons barely glanced up at their entrance.

"How long have they been waiting?" Buffy whispered to Spike.

"Four days," a Minoa demon by the door interjected. "Should have packed some food."

Spike saw an open spot across the room in one of the corners. He grabbed Buffy's elbow and led her over.

"We're not gonna wait in here!" she said.

"Don't got a choice."

"For days? What if I have to pee?"

"Then you wet yourself. We're not gonna be making any trouble here." He leaned in closer so only she could hear him. "Especially without your powers."

Buffy glared at him, but she sat down on the bench, crossing her arms and defiantly _not_ looking at him.

As soon as Spike bent his knees to sit down next to her, a tiny demon emerged from the door. Spike didn't recognize the type of demon. It wore glasses, though, and was wearing formal wear.

"Dehevret will see the vampire now!" he announced to the room.

Snarls emanated from the other demons as they noticed that the vampire and human couple that had just entered were being sent to the front of the queue. Spike looked around, throwing a smirk at them.

Buffy was standing beside him. "It's been four days already?" she whispered.

He ignored her, stepping forward to address the small demon.

"That'd be me and the lady here," Spike said.

The demon looked both of them up and down, then swiftly turned and began walking through the door. "Follow me."

It was a long walk. Spike should have expected that. After all, they were underground and Dehevret's chambers were above the surface. He hadn't expected it to be so cold, though. While the cold didn't bother him, he could still feel it. Buffy was beside him, arms folded around herself while she shivered. Course she was cold. Scrawny, craving her drugs, thin shirt.

She could have run from him. He'd thought she had for a moment. She'd stayed, though. Something, somehow, had made her stay. Spike couldn't pretend that this didn't please him in some way. Considering how desperate she'd been to leave earlier, he thought of this as a great deal of progress. He was just slightly suspicious of her change of heart. She came around too quickly. Much too quickly.

The glow scolded him for his suspicions, but Spike growled at it. No matter. The glow was always too trusting. Spike had to follow his instinct. Things still weren't right with the girl. She might just be biding her time. He couldn't have that.

They arrived.

Spike could tell they were above ground. The room was large with a round window set in the ceiling. Sunlight shone down to the middle of the room, effectively blocking Spike's path. Across the field of light was a throne. As if the man were a bloody king.

Dehevret, an Iyagi demon, stood at seven feet tall. He looked mainly human, however, only his height and his red eyes betraying his demonhood. Surrounding his throne were various lackeys that Spike paid little attention to. There were also a large number of women. Human women. Naked human women. Spike inhaled slightly, almost overwhelmed by the pheromones in the air.

Off to the side of the throne, one woman was on her stomach, hogtied and gagged. Spike could tell from the bloody wrists and ankles that she'd been left in that position for a long time, most likely as a punishment for something. He couldn't help the pang of sympathy that the glow forced upon him.

"The vampire," Dehevret's voice boomed as he leaned back in his seat. One of the lackeys, a scrawny, shorter demon, placed a hand on the arm of the throne and peered forward at Spike and Buffy. "I hear you're interested in the Book of Langlar."

Spike nodded. Wordlessly, he took the duffel from Buffy and tossed it into the circle of light.

"I'm willing to make an offering for it," he explained.

The smaller demon scurried forward, opening and inspecting the contents of the bag.

"I'm sure you've had a long journey here, vampire," Dehevret said. "Do you want something to eat? Or maybe you'd rather partake in some blood from your slavegirl there…I don't mind."

Buffy stepped forward. "I'm not his slavegirl," she crossed her arms. "He took me away from my - "

"Troubles," Spike interrupted quickly, grabbing Buffy around the waist and pulling her close beside him. "She's a spitfire, this one. That's the way I like it." He grinned, glancing down at Buffy, who looked decidedly _not_ happy with his story.

"Hmmm," Dehevret stroked the sole of the foot of the hogtied girl. She screamed through the gag. "You're far more lenient than I am, vampire. Please, don't be shy. Eat if you need to."

The vein in Buffy's neck was enticing at that moment as Spike remembered how long it had been since he'd eaten. Pretty long. He was hungry. And eating from a human? Something he hadn't done in a long time.

The pulse pumped faster as he watched her neck, hypnotized by the throbbing.

No, the glow protested. Wouldn't be right. Drinking from her.

Spike cleared his throat, trying to calm the demon inside. "Not hungry," he said while looking back at Dehevret. "I can eat later. We got ourselves a deal on the book?"

The duffel had been brought to Dehevret, who was casually glancing at the money within.

"Why do you want the Book of Langlar?" Dehevret asked.

"I like reading."

Dehevret chuckled, focusing his attention on Buffy. "I want her," he said.

Spike sensed Buffy tense beside him. "She's not on the table," Spike replied.

"No girl, no book." Dehevret shrugged, scratching at the bound girl's feet with his nails. Spike could smell the fresh blood.

Buffy had backed up a couple steps when Spike didn't immediately reply. He grabbed her elbow, keeping her at his side. Wouldn't do to have her running away now. Dehevret had a lot of girls already. This had to be a test of some type. Spike would just have to make sure he passed.

Spike growled, going into vamp-face as he pulled Buffy in towards him. He held her from behind, pressing his body against her back. The vein caught his attention again, and he grabbed her by the hair, pulling her head to the side to expose her neck.

"I _said_ she's not on the table," he said to Dehevret. "Leave a vamp his girl, yeh?"

Buffy's fingers tightened on his arms. She must've been afraid of him losing control.

Dehevret sat back, looking pensive. The seconds seemed to last years as Spike gazed at Buffy's neck, stretched out like a platter. Blood just below the surface. Pounding. Warming. Enticing. It smelled like home. Just a taste, maybe. The glow couldn't deny him just a small taste.

"Very well," Dehevret said finally, breaking Spike's concentration. Reluctantly, Spike relaxed his hold on Buffy. She quickly moved away from him, leaving his body hard and unsatisfied. "Jigal," Dehevret ordered. "Go fetch the book from the vault."

The small demon ran to get it. Spike nodded in acknowledgement. "Thank you," he said.

The scent of Buffy's blood still held him captive, though. She was standing as far away from him as she could, arms folded around herself. She was terrified of him. He liked it.

Meanwhile, Dehevret sat idly, inspecting the pair. Spike was certain that the demon boss wasn't going to give up the book so easily. He'd barely put up a fight to get Buffy. Instead, it seemed as if Dehevret were feeling him out to see what Spike's game was. Great. Not only would Spike have to deal with Ugvar's men, now he had the attention of Dehevret. He just wanted to get home.

The servant returned with the large tome, loose pages sticking out at odd angles. At Dehevret's nod, the servant tossed the book into the middle of the circle of sunlight. It landed in a plume of dust, filtering sunbeams.

"Pet," Spike said. "Go get the book."

Buffy hesitated slightly before walking into the middle of the room. Spike kept an eye on Dehevret and his servants. The other demons remained still, no threatening moves made towards Buffy.

Once she was safely back at his side, Spike nodded at Dehevret. "You are as generous as your reputation says you are," he said.

Dehevret smiled. "See them out," he ordered.

The exit they took was different than the entrance. It was, however, equally long, and they were still taken to the tunnels. Spike could scarcely believe that he had been successful. Somehow, he had doubted that he'd actually be able to get the book from Dehevret. It made him suspicious. Things were working out too easily. He'd spent five years getting this far. Why was everything just now falling into place? He didn't trust luck.

Buffy was sitting on a ledge in the tunnels, browsing through the book. "It's not in English," she murmured.

"Yeah. I know of a bloke who can translate it for us."

He was so hungry.

"You alright with another long trip?" he asked.

She nodded, still looking down at the book.

He stepped closer to her. "That's a rather sudden change of heart now."

Buffy looked up, confused. "What?

"Not too long ago, you were trying to escape and go back to your pimp. Now, you're happily following me." He sat beside her, brushing her hair back from her neck. "Makes it hard to trust you when you do something like that."

"Maybe you shouldn't trust me," she said.

He wasn't looking at her. Only her neck. Her perfectly smooth neck. The perfect vessel. He'd backed off his advances before. However, holding her in Dehevret's chambers had brought with it the full force of his desire for her. Sparked by the small portion of home he could see in her. He wanted so much to taste her.

"Spike," she whispered on an exhale. "I want you…but we shouldn't - "

"Fuck what we 'should' do," Spike growled. His fangs came out, and he buried them in her throat, holding her tight. They fell back on the ledge as Spike drank her blood, ignoring the cries of the glow in its protest.

Buffy held his head tight to her as he thrust his jean-clad groin against her center. Distantly, he could hear her moaning in pleasure, but he was barely aware of anything besides the rich taste of her life's blood. His entire body was hot with her inside him.

Something else caused him to stop, though. The glow, pounding in his head as Buffy's pulse slowed. Spike drew his head back, looking down at Buffy's pale face. Two ragged holes in her neck made her his. He was hard just looking at her. So hard. He needed more of her.

Roughly, he yanked down her jeans. She made a small noise but otherwise lay still. She was wet, though, from the bite. She wanted him.

His glow wouldn't let him take her until he knew for sure, though. Not after what had happened earlier, when she'd resisted his advances.

"Buffy," he said, exercising as much self-control as he had. "Tell me it's alright. I just need you so bad now. Just say 'yes'."

Her eyes opened slightly, focusing on him in the dim light of the tunnels. She nodded. "Yes," she said in a whisper.

All he needed. The glow wasn't entirely happy, but it would do. Spike unzipped his jeans, not wasting any time in entering her. Furiously, he pounded into her pussy with an animal-like intensity. She was still, only releasing small gasping noises on occasion. He didn't care. Her blood was coursing through his veins, fueling his passion.

She had to know. If she were planning to run away from him or betray him, this would show her that he had control. She couldn't escape him. He would unleash his demon upon her without a second thought.

Well, he'd humor the glow first. But then there wouldn't be a second thought.

Her eyes opened. She stared up at him, breath hitching as he fucked her. She was home. He had to hold onto her and make her stay with him. It was in her eyes that he saw the promise of Sunnydale and the life he'd left behind. He needed her.

He came with a growl, hips meeting Buffy's with one last thrust. He shook off his vamp-face. He'd proven his point.

Buffy reached a hand out, lightly pushing against his abdomen for him to get off her. "The book fell off the ledge," she said softly.

Spike nodded, sitting and zipping his pants back up. Buffy pulled hers back on before slowly sitting up, hand to the bite on her neck.

"You feeling woozy?" he asked. "Should probably get you something to eat."

He stood, grabbing the Book of Langlar and trying to get his bearings. He'd have to go up to the surface to get food and find out where they were. Then figuring out the way to Wyver's place to get the book translated. First task was finding a way up top.

Buffy was leaning against the ledge, eyes down at her feet. She was chewing on her lip, but she stopped in order to speak:

"I hate you."

***

"Jigal," Dehevret mused while watching his bound slavegirl. She had stopped wiggling, but dropping spiders on her made her start struggling again. He liked to watch her wriggle in her bonds. Humans looked so delicate. And yet this girl had lasted a day already in this state. Humans were the essence of resilience. Always going forward, always surviving. Even when the world dirtied and stained them, they persevered. Like roaches.

Tonight, he would fuck and kill this particular slave. Put her out of her misery. Dehevret considered himself a merciful demon in that way.

Jigal was waiting by the foot of his throne. The small, wiry demon had been his loyal servant for many years. The outside world wasn't a safe place for Jigal. Other demons weren't tolerant towards beings with souls. Jigal was a rare breed of demon who was born with one. It made him an outcast. Dehevret, though, saw it as a benefit. Another perspective on the world. Jigal served him in return for his protection.

"I need you to find out why the vampire wanted that book," Dehevret said. "Find out who that girl is. And see if this has any relation to the incident from five years ago." Dehevret met Jigal's beady eyes, knowing that the other demon would know what he was speaking of.

Jigal nodded. "Of course. I'll follow them, my lord." He hesitated. "The vampire…he was different. He has his soul."

Just the perceptiveness Dehevret had come to expect from Jigal. Dehevret shook his head, though. "Not quite, Jigal. The vampire is fractured and at odds with himself. He doesn't have _his_ soul. The vampire has _a_ soul."

_tbc..._


	4. Blood

**Chapter Four: Blood**

The poured cement of the backroom floor was cold. Buffy could feel it even through her jeans. Sitting on the floor hadn't been her preferred choice. However, just getting her, a human, into the gambling club _and_ into one of the private rooms with Spike had been enough trouble. Neither she nor Spike had offered much of an argument when the establishment had refused to give her a chair.

Buffy actually didn't mind sitting by Spike's chair, staring at the faded sign on the wall across from her. The private room "rules" were written out on it, though there weren't many rules in a place such as this. Any club that allowed vampires in was guaranteed to be a shithole. The rules threatened bodily harm for any damage of property, though it didn't mention anything against fighting, fucking, or killing. Classy.

She was enjoying the silent treatment that Spike was treating her to. He'd stopped talking to her after they'd left Dehevret's base. More specifically, he'd stopped talking to her after she'd told him that she hated him. She felt no remorse for letting that nugget of honesty out, though. It was true. Every inch of his stupid, crazy, vampirey self filled her with disgust.

Bright red pain flashed as she looked around. She hissed, hand automatically going to the bite on her neck. It still hurt. All the time, it ached. She'd managed to forget about it, though, until she turned her head and opened the wound again. She didn't have anything to bandage it with, so she was stuck with blood running down her throat to the collar of her shirt. She kept her hand cupped over the mark, hoping it would stop bleeding soon. Spike had gotten her some food earlier so she wasn't as dizzy as she had been. That had broken the bank, though, prompting Spike to join in a high stakes card game to obtain some more money.

While this world had developed gambling and card games, it somehow hadn't managed to invent poker. Instead, they had a game called Cabbas that served the same purpose. There were cards and bluffing and cheating and betting and winners and losers. Despite her current hatred of him, Buffy desperately hoped that Spike would be a winner. Otherwise she would have to go out and fuck for some money.

No, he hadn't said that. However, Buffy knew they wouldn't have many other options if they couldn't get money in this game. Money was as essential in this world as it was back in her world, and they had too long a journey to go without it. The thought left Buffy with a giant knot in her stomach. She was trying not to do the hooking thing anymore. She'd decided to stop being that girl.

Then Spike had done that _thing_ with her. And while she'd kinda wanted him, she hadn't wanted it. He was forcing her back into being that girl without even realizing what he was doing. She hated him for it. Especially since he was the one who had made her decide _not_ to be that girl. He'd shown her the exit to the tunnel, convinced her to go towards it, and then he'd blocked the way. She couldn't get past him.

The wooden chair collided with her head as Spike leaned back in his seat, chuckling to himself. Buffy scooted over to give him more room. He was either bluffing or he had a good hand.

"Let's make this game a bit more interesting, yeh?" Spike said to the others at the table. They'd been playing for fairly low stakes so far, so Buffy wasn't entirely surprised that Spike was looking to up the ante now. "I'm putting my slave here in the pot. Winner gets a round with her."

Buffy looked up sharply, feeling the tight coil of panic wrapping around her. She got on her knees to face him. "What the hell are you doing?" she asked, voice coming out with all the assertiveness of a quaking field mouse.

His mouth twitched in irritation as he leaned over to whisper to her, "Calm the fuck down, alright? Just raising the stakes. More money that way. I'm in for a win this hand."

He spoke softly to keep the other demons from hearing him, but a look at his hand showed her that he had the First card. That's usually a good way to win in Cabbas, as the First card was something of a wild card. It wasn't a bad hand, but Buffy still didn't want to bet _that_ on it.

There were three other demons at the table, all of them watching with amusement. Buffy recognized the look. They were sizing her up, picturing her in their mind. She'd been treated to that careful, sexual perusal so many times, she had thought she was immune to it. This time, though, she felt sick with their eyes on her. Her instinct was to run out of the room, but she knew Spike wouldn't let her get far.

After putting on a great display of reluctance and disappointment, two of the demons folded, deciding they didn't have the cards to handle the pot. Buffy tried to ignore their longing gazes. The third demon, a vampire, stayed in with a smug grin, betting the rest of his money.

There was a substantial amount in the pot. 134,000 keras. And her. Buffy bit down on her lip as she watched, muscles tensed and poised to run, though she knew she wouldn't be able to.

Spike was the perfect picture of confidence, raising an eyebrow at the other vampire. "Well, let's see 'em, then." With a casual motion, he tossed his cards on the table, sitting back and smiling while the other two demons admired his hand.

The vampire across the table didn't appear fazed, however. Gently, and with great satisfaction, he placed his cards down. Buffy felt as if ice cold water had been pumped directly into her veins. He had a Direct Straight. Highest hand possible. It even best the First card.

Spike's confidence broke in an instant as he recoiled, mumbling a swear word. Buffy's eyes were drawn to the door. Maybe she could make it. Maybe Spike and the other vampire wouldn't catch her. Maybe she'd get out of the club unharmed. Maybe a pink winged hippo would fly down and help her. Buffy gripped the back of Spike's chair, squeezing hard as she tried to keep herself calm.

The winner of the game only gave a passing glance to the money as he stood up. Spike had his head in his hands, leaning forward onto the table. Mumbling. Fucking insane vampire always talking to himself. He was gonna sit by and babble while Buffy was forced to reward the other vampire.

The vampire was tall, yet more filled out than Spike. Buffy took note of the knife he seemed to have stashed in his boot as he slowly sauntered around the table. "Thanks for the game," he said to Spike. Reaching Buffy, he crouched down to meet her at eye level.

The most random piece of trivia floated to the top of her mind at that moment. A scrap of information remembered from a college class that she hadn't even known she'd retained. Rabbits, when threatened, will get stuck in a "fight or flight" response. The adrenaline rush from being scared makes them apt to either fight the threat or run away. However, rabbits get so overwhelmed by the adrenaline that they don't know which to choose, so they freeze. They freeze, they tremble, and they die.

Buffy used to fight. Now she was a rabbit.

She jumped as the vampire lifted her chin to make her look him in the eye, going into his vampface to display his fangs. "I'm gonna fuck you till you bleed, cunt. You'll be screaming for mercy once I rip into your pussy."

She flinched at his words, the bitemark at her throat suddenly pulsing as her heart sped up. She heard the laughter of the other demons, but they sounded like they were in some hazy distant land. Spike's growl cut through the fog. Buffy pulled away from the vampire before her as Spike sprang out of his seat, grabbing the chair and snapping the leg off. The other vampire barely had a chance to turn around before Spike had staked him through the back with the wooden chair leg. He snarled as the dust fell, turning to the other two demons in a silent challenge.

The demons were willing to fight it out, apparently, as they were standing and coming around the table in almost an instant. One of the demons was short and scaly, but muscled with sharp claws and some painful-looking spikes on its tail. The other demon was taller than its compatriot, but it was also leaner and slightly less lethal-looking. Probably faster, as well.

Buffy's muscles decided to start working again, and she quickly scooted out of the way, not wanting to get caught in the fight. Spike was already smiling, happy to get into a brawl, no doubt. She hadn't seen him fight in years. She'd forgotten what it looked like. The grace. The strength. The sheer brutality. How much he relished it. He was a vampire, no different than the one he'd dusted. He was just the same as every other being in this dimension that had hurt her. Why was she turning to him for help? Why was she expecting him to be a good guy? He was as far from good as the vampire who'd wanted to make her bleed or all the clients she'd served through the years or those demons that had sealed her powers.

Spike growled as the shorter demon slammed its spiked tail into his side. The tail remained lodged, worsening the wound. Spike took advantage of it, though, grabbing the tail and pulling the demon forward. As the demon struggled, Spike sank his fangs into its neck, messily letting the blood flow out rather than drink demon blood. The taller demon punched Spike's side wound in an attempt to get him to release his friend. Spike just looked up in irritation, casually snapping the neck of the clawed demon before turning to the tall one. Demon blood covered Spike's mouth, face, even throat. Disgusting.

There was a moment's pause as the other demon made the decision to run. As he turned to spring for the door, though, Spike grabbed him, sending him crashing to the floor. There was a frantic struggle as the demon called for mercy in his own language, holding out his hands in his plea. Buffy huddled near the wall, trying so hard to be somewhere else, but having no choice but to watch in horror as Spike repeatedly slammed the demon's head against the floor. The blood was pouring. The face was gone. The demon was dead. And Spike was smiling. Blood smeared his duster and hands.

She'd forgotten. There were no good demons.

Spike licked his lips as he got back to his feet. On the other side of the room, Buffy stood as well, shaking slightly. So many things were wrong now. Her entire life was wrong. She'd been able to ignore it before with the drugs. But not now. She didn't know how to fix things. She'd thought following Spike could help. She'd been wrong. He was wrong. She couldn't trust him not to hurt her. He was a demon. It's what he did.

She was trying to get back to being herself again. She couldn't do so while she lived in fear of _Spike_.

Spike turned back to her with a small grin on his face in satisfaction for what he'd done. All of Buffy's pent-up adrenaline and energy was waiting for him, and she released it as she punched him in the nose. Her knuckles cried in pain, but she didn't care. She didn't even care that he barely seemed to flinch at her attack. Instead, she screamed and hit him again, this time in the stomach. She was aiming for the bleeding wound the demon had left Spike with.

He shoved her away, but she pushed back. She remembered a time when her punches actually had an effect. When she hurt others instead of being the one getting hurt. Yeah. She used to hurt demons. They used to fear her. When had that got turned around?

Knowing how ineffective her punches were against a vampire, Buffy used her nails, clawing at his face. He backed up a step, trying to grab her hands.

"What's your fucking problem?" Spike yelled as he dodged another punch of hers.

"_You're_ my problem you...demon!" Buffy felt her entire body wavering as if she were on the edge of a cliff. Just the wind would knock her over. She took advantage of Spike's stunned surprise to bend over and fetch the discarded chair leg that he'd used earlier. She hadn't held a stake in years. It was makeshift, yes. But her hand curved around it as if she'd just been patrolling last night. She brandished it as if she'd never been apart from her calling. "No different from the rest." Her voice was trembling against her wishes.

Spike held up his hand, keeping his chest away from her. "Now, pet. Think here. Whatcha gonna do if you dust me? Not many places for you to go round here, yeh?"

He had a point. Fuck. She shook her head. "I'll go to that shelter - "

He laughed. "Yeah, like you remember how to get back there."

She didn't need him. She didn't need a _demon_. She was better than that. Buffy changed her grip on the chair leg, using it like a baseball bat to smash Spike across the face. She couldn't back down on this one.

The suddenness of the impact caused Spike to lose balance. He fell against the wall, reaching an arm out to catch himself. Buffy heard a muffled swear word but didn't pay attention to it.

"I can't stay with you," she protested. She sounded too desperate to her own ears. She didn't know how to not sound desperate at this point. "You're a demon. You're like _them_." All of them. The demons that had taken her from herself.

Spike shook his head. "I'm different." The words came from bloodstained lips.

"Why? Don't tell me you care about me or some shit."

"No," he said with a forced tone as if he were speaking to a child. "I don't give a bloody fuck about you, actually. But I'm not like the rest of these demons in this world."

"And what makes you so different?"

"I got a soul."

All her energy drained from her as the words left his mouth. The chair leg fell from her fingers, and she suddenly felt as if she'd run a marathon. The world was shifting around her. He had to be lying, even as he was looking her in the eye, opening everything up to her. She didn't believe it. She looked away. "Bullshit."

He stood up straight, readjusting the duster on his shoulders. "Whatever you say. Doesn't change the fucking thing. Had to get it."

"Why?"

"To get back to our world. Why else?"

She crossed her arms, looking down. If she didn't look him in the eye, she could still pretend he was making it up. "You're not making any sense."

He sighed. "Nature of the portal, Slayer. Can't get from there to here with a soul. Can't get from here to there without one. Way of the worlds."

She bit her lip again. She was developing a sore spot from doing that. She wanted him to be lying. Him having a soul would just complicate everything. However, she was having trouble convincing herself that he was lying. "I made it here with a soul," she said.

"Yeah. I've been trying to figure that one out for years."

She looked back up at him. He was unmoving, watching her warily in case she decided to lash out again. He was telling the truth. She knew it. He had a soul. Spike had his soul. She frowned. If he had his soul, then...

"How'd you get your soul back?" she asked. "Is it a curse, like Angel's or - "

He laughed, but there was no joy in it. "It's a curse alright. Nothing like Angel, though. Not even mine. Well," he looked off to the side. "Suppose it's mine now. Wasn't originally. The shaman had to give me someone else's soul."

Her stomach turned. Some poor person's soul was trapped inside a vampire? "Why?"

Spike looked at her as if it were obvious and she were an idiot for not knowing. "Well, my soul's not here, is it? Not in this world, at least. They couldn't give me my own soul so the shaman made do with what he could find."

"Whose is it?"

He shrugged. "Don't really know. Doesn't matter. Annoys the fuck out of me. All the time, making me regret things or do things or not do things. It's..." he rubbed his forehead. "It's like hell in my head."

"You feel guilty," she stated quietly.

"No!" He said it quickly. Too quickly. After a pause, he looked away. "Yes."

A demon feeling guilty. Buffy touched his chest where his heart would beat if he were human. Somebody in this world felt guilty. "Good." She shoved him back against the wall, not caring when his head snapped back to collide with it. She'd finally found a demon she could defeat in this world.

Buffy pressed her body against his as she bit his neck, sinking her teeth in as hard as she could. Spike let out a surprised cry and lightly tried to push her away, but Buffy could tell that he was afraid of using too much force. He didn't want to hurt her. Not while he had a soul in him.

She pulled back to inspect the bloody bitemark. Her mark. Oh, sure, it would fade from his body. The mark would remain in his mind, though, to let him know that he wasn't as powerful as he thought he was. When she looked into his eyes, she could see the confusion in them. She smiled before sweeping her leg behind his, sending him to the floor.

She had a power she hadn't wielded in years as she straddled him, pinning him to the floor. He could have pushed her off, even as she retrieved the wooden chair leg to press against his chest. She knew that his vampiric speed and strength could easily overpower her. Instead, he watched warily as she pulled his duster from his shoulders before pushing his shirt up and over his head.

The red, gaping wound that the tailed demon had left drew Buffy's attention. It was on his right side. Three ragged holes were still bleeding liberally over his abdomen. He still had blood on his face from the fight, as well as on his hands. Covered in blood. She pressed her hand against the wound. Blood oozed between her fingers, and Buffy heard Spike's sharp intake of breath at the sensation.

Buffy would be the Slayer again. She would make demons fear her as they once had.

She curled her fingers, digging more deeply into the wound. Spike cried out, grabbing her hand to pull it away, but a sharp glare from her gave him pause.

"I'm not tagging along anymore," Buffy said.

Spike tilted his head in question. Well, as best he could while lying on the floor, looking at her as she straddled him.

"I want my power back. And you're gonna help me," she explained. He had to know the power was shifting.

"Right, pet," Spike said. "Why don't you let me up so we can keep on with that?"

She turned her head, presenting her neck to him and displaying the mark he'd left on her. "The soul makes you feel guilt, doesn't it? For this?"

"And for other transgressions," Spike whispered.

Buffy sat back. "I know a way to make things up to me."

He was still as she stood. Still as she removed her pants and underwear. She could feel the faint exhalation against her thigh as she sat back down, this time straddling his face while facing his legs. She leaned over, hands seeking the lean muscles of his abdomen.

"Make me feel good," she said.

She barely needed to say anything. Spike's arms wrapped around her legs, and then his tongue was at her clit, stimulating her as she put her head down on his stomach. She moaned. The clients almost never did this for her. They were too concerned with their own needs to bother with hers.

Her finger traced around the puddle of red where the gaping side wounds were. Buffy's breath hitched as Spike inserted a finger into her while still paying attention to her clit with his tongue. She put her palm to the broken skin of the bloody wound and pressed down.

His attentions stopped as he cried out. She sat back slightly, lowering herself closer to him while still keeping pressure on his injury.

"Don't stop," she ordered.

After a few seconds, the pleasure resumed. Buffy continued to press against the wound, enjoying the cool flow of blood pouring out. It dripped onto the floor at the same time as it spread further across Spike's stomach.

Buffy gasped as Spike bit down on her clit, forehead falling to his stomach. Two fingers were stretching her then as she felt the culmination of years of deadened sensation come alive inside her. She screamed her release, back arching, eyes closed.

She was panting on her folded arms atop his abdomen. A cold hand softly stroked the outside of her thigh as she came back to herself. She smiled. She got the demon to work for her this time.

Buffy rolled off him, twisting around so she could face him. Her juices had mixed with the blood on his face to stain his cheeks. He looked at her with uncertainty, obviously not sure where they stood.

His confusion made her smile widen. She leaned closer. "Did that make the soul feel better?"

He shook his head. "No."

She fell back on her elbows, frowning at his answer. "Why not?"

He brought a hand up to wipe his face, though it was a futile effort. They'd have to find a place to wash up. He sighed. "Cause the fucking thing knows that sex isn't what you need. Even if it's you being a commanding mistress and all. At the end of the day, you'll still think yourself a whore cause of it."

Wrong wrong wrong, so many completely very many different levels of wrongness. Buffy couldn't even look at him anymore as she stood on shaky legs to put her pants back on.

"Buffy," he said, not having moved from his place on the ground.

She didn't let him finish whatever he'd been planning to say. "Let's get cleaned up and go. We're wasting time."

_tbc..._


	5. Caged

**Chapter Five: Caged**

Jigal wasn't entirely accustomed to leaving the safety of his master's base, not since he'd been taken in by Dehevret thirteen years ago. Yral demons, his kind, had souls and were therefore considered free game to other demons. Jigal had been barely a hatchling when he'd been found by Dehevret's men. Dehevret had shown great mercy by allowing him to live and serve him.

However, Jigal much preferred serving his master from the base. Tailing the vampire and the human left him exposed to other demons. Even now, he was forced to wait outside while the two went into the bar. The bar allowed vampires and humans to enter, but would not admit Yral demons.

Which was fine. Jigal had to report back to Dehevret anyway. Jigal had been pleased to get close enough to eavesdrop on the duo a couple times. He hoped the information would be useful to his master.

Fumbling in his pack, Jigal crossed to an ignored corner of the road. It had rained the night before, leaving muddy puddles scattered around the small town plaza. He sprinkled the appropriate herbs into a puddle, and recited the incantation from memory.

Dehevret's face appeared in the murky water. He smiled, displaying his sharp teeth to Jigal.

"Jigal, what news?"

Just hearing his master's voice was a comfort. "The pair have been traveling for a couple days now."

"Their destination?"

"From what I've been able to overhear, they're going to see the sorcerer, Wyver."

Devehret narrowed his eyes. "Interesting." He glanced to the side as Jigal waited patiently for his next order. "Jigal, I need you to stall them just for a few hours. I'll send a couple of representatives to Wyver and see if we can convince him to assist us with this."

Jigal frowned. "How shall I stall them?"

"I have every confidence you'll find a way to do so that doesn't arouse their suspicions."

Jigal's hands were shaking with the weight of the responsibility Dehevret was giving him. "I'll do my best not to disappoint you, Master."

"You have my favor, Jigal. Be well."

And with that, he was gone.

***

The entire day was fuzzy. Spike had had the portal dream yet again. In sleep, he'd once again vividly experienced the elation of opening the portal home, only to be met with extreme anguish when Buffy was unable to go through with him. The image of her crying, stuck on the other side was seared into his mind. The events of the dream never changed; the feelings they evoked never lessened in intensity.

Only this time, the dream struck him harder than it ever had before, such that all through the morning and the rest of the day, he'd been unable to shake the ghost of the dream. The dream hung over him, surrounding him like a coffin committing him to his fate.

It had been a hell of a day. It wasn't just the dream. It was also his traveling companion. She was keeping him constantly on edge.

She was different now.

They sat in a dive of a bar, and Spike watched as Buffy hungrily devoured her meal of barely edible bread and soup. There was something of the old Buffy in her eyes that hadn't been there before: a spark of the interminable desire for life. He almost felt he could respect her now.

His own mug of blood remained largely untouched. It had been three days since he'd drank from the Slayer, and he still felt pleasantly sated. Her powers may be sealed but Slayer blood was still Slayer blood. He imagined it would be another week, at least, before he had to feed again. For now, her blood filled his veins. He didn't want to dilute that with whatever pig swill the bar was selling.

They'd been making good time through the tunnels to Wyver's place. Spike had never met the wizard, but he'd heard of him through reputation. Wyver would be willing to help them with the translation and the sealing spell, despite Spike being a vampire. Of course, it would cost them, but Spike still had plenty of money from the Cabbas game.

Then, once the book was translated, Spike would be able to do whatever magical spell was necessary to open up the portal and go home. Away from hell and back to Sunnydale. It almost seemed too easy.

As Spike thought those words, a large pair of demons entered the bar, perusing the establishment. Spike sat up sharply, recognizing the colors they wore. They were in league with Ugvan, the bloke that had given him the glow - the bloke that he stilled owed a fair amount of money to and whose latest debt collector Spike had just dusted several days back.

Right. Spike imagined he was probably wanted for that by Ugvan now. Damn.

He grabbed Buffy's hand, interrupting her as she ate.

"Hey!" she protested.

He ignored her, pulling her to stand up with him and walked toward the back of the bar. Looking back over his shoulder, he grimaced as he realized he'd been spotted. Ugvan's demons wound their way through the tables toward him.

"What are you doing? I wasn't through eating!" Buffy struggled against his pull.

"Hush," he looked around for some back exit. He'd rather not fight these two buggers. They were…well…they were very large. He wasn't completely stupid.

"You!" one of them called. "Stop!"

Buffy looked over her shoulder, eyes widening as she took in the situation. She quickly shook herself from Spike's grasp and grabbed his wrist instead, tugging him behind the bar and back into the kitchens. An array of smaller, menial demons were stirring pungent stews and gutting various wildlife.

The workers - Spike hesitated to call them "cooks" - looked up at them in surprise.

"Health inspector," Buffy said. "Uh…where's your back door?"

One of the workers nodded towards the side.

"Thanks." Buffy smiled.

Spike was following her lead as they ran around the metal stoves and out the back door where the trash and scraps were disposed of. The stench almost made Spike turn around and go back in, but he knew that they needed to get back down to the tunnels if they wanted to avoid Ugvan's men.

Besides, the sun would be coming up soon.

They ran from the alley just as Ugvan's men emerged from the front of the bar. Spike pulled Buffy back behind a corner to keep from being seen. Spike didn't recognize what type of demon the two were, but he hoped they didn't have a good sense of smell.

They did.

With barely any hesitation, the two turned towards where Spike and Buffy were and began their approach. Fine. Spike would have to take care of this the hard way.

"Stay here," he said to Buffy as he stepped out from behind the corner, and walked to meet the demons.

Spike regretted having to get close to them. They reeked of some horrible odor that Spike couldn't even identity. Not only that, but they had slime dripping from their tusks.

"Spike," one of them said loudly. "Ugvan's been looking for you. You still owe him."

"Yeah, about that," Spike said, looking off to the side. Quickly, though, he lashed out, punching the first demon in the nose.

The guy was big, but he went down, stumbling back from Spike's attack. His friend moved quickly though, retaliating with a punch of his own that sent Spike to the ground. Before Spike could even stand up, he felt a sharp kick in his side. His side was still sore from being gouged open a few days ago. This wasn't helping.

Spike grabbed the demon's leg, pulling hard in an effort to knock over the behemoth. It didn't work. The demon, instead, stomped on his hand and kicked him in the face.

Fuck. This didn't seem like a winning battle.

Spike had a reprieve, then, as the demon fell over, crying out in pain. He looked up, surprised to see Buffy standing over both demons with a metal pipe. A metal pipe. How did the girl always find a metal pipe just lying around? Buffy didn't stop at merely knocking him over, though. She brought the pipe down on each of them again, making sure they were both knocked out.

Spike struggled to his feet. The air was getting warmer.

"We need to get to the tunnels," he said, licking his own blood off his fingers.

She nodded as she dropped the pipe, stepping over the two demons to join him.

It didn't take long to find the entrance back to the tunnels. Spike heaved a sigh of relief as he lowered himself down into the hole. He frowned, though, when he realized he was submerged in water up to his waist. Buffy splashed down beside him.

"What the hell?" Buffy asked, raising her arms to keep them above the water.

Spike felt the gentle laps of water rippling from the movement of a demon beside them. It was an underground demon. Probably one of the builders of the tunnel. Right now, it was clinging to the wall, inspecting it.

"Hey!" Spike called. "What's the deal, mate?"

The demon didn't turn to them, but it didn't have any eyes with which to look at them anyway. Instead, its tufted ears turned in their direction, and the demon paused in its inspection of the wall.

"Rival gang fight by the lake. One of Dehevret's wizards got overzealous and managed to flood the tunnels." The demon clucked in disapproval. "May not be stable. Wasn't built for this."

Great. They didn't have much of a choice in the matter this time. They'd have to wade through it.

Spike removed his coat, grabbing the duffel from Buffy. He wrapped the bag in his coat before holding it above his head to keep the money from getting wet. Buffy sniffed, awkwardly lowering her arms into the water.

"We're just gonna keep going?" she asked.

"Looks like," Spike replied.

While she was obviously unhappy with the situation, she remained silent and they sloshed through the high water through the tunnels.

A sudden tremor caused Spike to brace himself against the side, holding onto the duffel carefully.

Buffy looked up. "More fighting, I guess."

Spike nodded. "Playing around with magic." Why was he the only person who ever seemed to pick up on the fact that magic was bad?

Although the tunnel continued to shake around them at various intervals, they started walking again. Buffy was breathing heavily beside him from the effort of walking through the deep water. She didn't complain, though. Not like she would have before her recent change in attitude.

In the corner of his senses, Spike had a distant awareness that someone was following them. He wasn't certain as to where this individual was, or even how he knew they were being followed. His instincts were signaling for him to investigate and track down the presence. However, every time he extended one of his senses to pinpoint _where_ it was, he found nothing. This ghost of a stalker drove him to distraction.

"Um…," Buffy said as they reached a dead end.

Spike frowned. Wrong way. He'd taken them down a wrong turn somehow. Distracted by the presence.

"You do know where we're going, right?" Buffy said. Her lips were pinched in annoyance.

Spike was about to reply when the tunnel shook again. No, it did more than shake. It rearranged, throwing them against the stone walls as the entire structure moved around them. Spike shoved Buffy to the safety of the dead-end wall as the ceiling fell around them. A piece of debris hit him in the head, and his world became a mix of rushing water, dirt, and stone.

When he came back to, Buffy was holding him above the water as the tunnel became stationary again. She was staring in dismay at the pile of rubble blocking their way back.

She wasn't the only one.

He stood up, shaking off Buffy's grip on his arm. He touched his forehead gently, feeling the bleeding wound he'd just gotten courtesy of the cave-in. Great. Licking the blood off his fingers, he made his way to where the duffel bag floated still wrapped in his duster.

He just wanted to get home. That's all. Why the fuck did everything in this world have to be so fucking complicated? The portal, the glow, the whore, the fucking cave-in. His first instinct was to start attacking the pile of rocks blocking their way, using his demonic strength to force their way back out. He knew that would be a mistake, though. He needed to take things slow, inspect the structure, make sure everything was stable.

Was a fucking bitch to have to be so careful about everything. He was tired of it. Tired of being the responsible one. Tired of making the plans that never seemed to work right. He was fucking sick of getting stuck in corners, unable to get out. Stuck. Trapped. He was always trapped.

"We'll have to dig our way out," Buffy said, breaking through his thoughts.

He turned to her. The water had risen in the tunnels to just above her breasts. She leaned against the wall, looking as if she had no inclination to do any digging.

"Yeah," he sighed. That is, if he could dig them out without causing another cave-in. He groped through his duster's pockets, pulling out his lighter and tossing it to Buffy. She fumbled the catch, but managed to keep from dropping it. "Hold the light while I take a look at the rubble here, pet."

Moving slowly, Buffy flicked the lighter on, moving to Spike's side. She held the flame unsteadily as he experimentally tried to move some of the stone pieces. They weren't going to budge easily.

Fuck.

"Spike," Buffy said. "Why do you think I was able to come through the portal with a soul?"

The question shouldn't have surprised him, but it did. They were trapped in a flooded tunnel and she was worried about _that_? Bloody bint needed to get her priorities straight.

Spike shrugged. "Told you, didn't I? I don't know."

"You don't know, but you probably have a guess, don't you?"

"Sounds to me like you're the one who has a guess, luv."

She was silent. Spike stayed facing the rubble, careful not to look at her. He'd rather not have this conversation now.

When she did speak, it was in a quietly vulnerable voice. "I don't think I'm who I used to be."

He looked at her then, holding back a laugh. "Portal doesn't change who you are, Slayer."

She was looking down, fidgeting with the lighter. She'd shut the lid, extinguishing the flame, only to flick it back on. Over and over again. "But this isn't me." She glanced up for only a second. "I don't do these things."

"Obviously, you do. If you're not 'you', then who are you?"

"I don't know. I just - " she stopped abruptly. She was still looking down at the lighter, and Spike couldn't see her face. Her throat was tensing up, though, and the halting sound of her voice told him that she was fighting tears. "What if I lost my soul somehow?"

She looked up at him finally. Her eyes were large and wet, and her mouth twitched in her effort not to cry. She was silently imploring him to give her the answer she wanted to hear. He couldn't remember many occasions where he'd seen the Slayer cry. Just once, not too long before they'd gotten stuck in this world. It was very long ago, but he still remembered it clearly. She had been crying about her mum then.

He couldn't help it. He laughed, putting a hand against the rubble to steady himself. He shook his head. "What, your soul just fall off or something, Slayer? Don't think it works like that." He looked back at her. "Though you'd like it if it did, wouldn't you? Be easy to say it's all just 'cause you don't have a soul. Easier to fix that way.

"But no, pet. Fuck, a person without a soul wouldn't cry at the thought of _not_ having a soul. Like it or not, you got one. Everything you've done, all the fucking and drugs and batshit insanity have all been with that glimmer of righteousness inside you. Soul might be a little stained now, but it's there. Otherwise you wouldn't feel guilty for being a whore."

Her face changed as he spoke. Reserved desperation turned into indignant anger. Spike was too busy talking to realize what she was doing as she held out the lighter to his shirt. He yelled as his sleeve caught fire, and he quickly patted it out.

Buffy kept a hold of the lighter. "I'm not the only one who feels guilt, you know," she said, reminding him of his own souled state. His glow agreed with her.

Fucking bitch.

He snatched his lighter from her, shoving her against the wall harshly. "Why don't you just keep your mouth shut while I work on our little problem, yeh?"

He expected her to relent and slink away like she would have done when he'd first found her. But he'd forgotten. She was different now.

She shoved him back as best she could in the high water. Spike didn't even have to step back. She didn't exactly have much strength in her. He laughed. "Like an ant, pet," he said. "You're not the Slayer right now, remember?"

Buffy stepped towards him, pressing her body against his and grabbing his crotch underneath the water. "I _am_ still the Slayer, actually." She unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, taking his cock in her firm hand. "Don't forget what I can do to you if I want."

Fuck. Bitch played dirty. She stroked him quickly, watching his face with a devious grin. Spike's wet hand trailed down her chest, playing with a nipple through her shirt. Wet shirt. Wet Buffy. That was a delicious thought. His body ached to be inside her. His glow was screaming in protest, but he ignored it. She wanted him.

"What about what you can do _for_ me, luv?" he whispered in her ear.

As soon as he did, she stopped stroking and squeezed his cock painfully hard. He yelped as Buffy grabbed his hair with her free hand and yanked his head back, forcing him to look at her. "Now, now," she said. "None of that. I'm not your whore." She squeezed even harder. Spike gritted his teeth, putting a hand to her shoulder to push her away, but she shook his head to warn him against it. "Who am I?"

He rolled his eyes. "You're the Slayer, okay? Just…not so tight, pet."

"What was that?" She didn't relax her grip.

"Fuck, you're the Slayer."

She smiled. "Again."

"You're the Slayer. The bloody Chosen One. You make vampires quake in fear and all that shit."

Finally, his cock was released from the vice grip she'd had it in. He breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped back. That is, until he realized she was done with him. He was still fuck hard and throbbing, and she wasn't gonna finish him off.

Buffy turned to the rubble. "Put your dick away. We need to work on moving these stones and getting out."

He growled. He wanted to lash out at her. Make her finish the job she'd started. His entire body was pulsing with frustration and a desire for release.

However, something told him that that would be a bad idea. Something more than just the glow.

Spike stood still while Buffy began to work some of the rocks loose. She moved with intense determination, her focus entirely on the job at hand. If he squinted, she might actually seem like she used to be.

He sighed, ignoring the calls of his body, and zipped up. He reached a hand to help her. "Hope you realize how bloody frustrating you are," he commented.

"Let me guess. You'd kill me if you didn't need me to get home, right?"

"No," he said. "You're useful for getting me off on occasion."

Her hands halted in their work, but only for a few seconds before she continued. "Yeah. I'm good at that."

The glow shook its head at the statement. He knew why. Buffy's tone was resigned. Spike knew what she'd meant that had gone unsaid: _Yeah. That's all I'm good for_. It was written across her stoic face as she attempted to move past the moment. He couldn't let this stand. The journey would be unbearable with the two of them constantly battling each other. Might as well swallow his pride on this one.

"Sorry," he said. The glow approved.

She looked at him in surprise, looking down before nodding in acknowledgement.

They worked in silence after that, concentrating only on the wall of rocks in front of them. Spike kept a careful ear out to make sure they weren't going to cause another cave-in by removing the supporting rocks. Everything appeared to be stable, however, and they managed to work for a few hours with no problems.

Buffy pulled a large rock off the pile, dropping it abruptly into the water as the weight caught her by surprise. She rubbed her hands together, flexing her fingers as she did so. "This would be so much easier with my Slayer powers," she muttered.

"Yeah. Would be helpful if we have to go up against Ugvan's men again, too," Spike said.

"I thought we handled the fight pretty well out there."

He glanced at her. "And with your powers back? We'll be doing much better than 'pretty well'. Nothing better than having a Slayer fight by your side."

She grinned. "That'll be kinda fun."

Actually, Spike knew it would be fun. He'd almost forgotten what it'd been like before, fighting side by side with the Slayer. Well, they hadn't really fought together often, 'cause Buffy hadn't liked him patrolling with her. But when they had, it had been fantastic.

He heard it before he felt it. A distant rumbling noise that indicated another earthquake. Spike grabbed Buffy, ducking just as the tremors started, and covered her head as best he could.

The world didn't shake as long this time. It still left him rattled and disoriented when everything stilled, though. It took Buffy pushing against his hold on her to prompt him to open his eyes and survey the new situation.

Buffy stepped back slightly as he released her, staring at him in confusion briefly. Spike was more concerned with the pile of rubble. It was gone.

Well, not gone. But the rocks that had been blocking their path had conveniently been knocked loose, opening a passageway back to the main tunnels.

"That was lucky," Spike said.

Buffy nodded, hesitating for a moment before walking through the water to fetch the duffel bag.

She handed it off to Spike. "Guess we're hitting the road again, huh?"

"Looks like. Best get out of this area before the fucking wizards start back up."

Spike didn't look back at Buffy as he held the bag over his head and stepped back into the main tunnel. He was eager to finally reach their destination.

***

Jigal quickly scampered away from the pair, clinging to the wall in order to not disturb the water and give away his presence to the vampire. He'd been afraid that the vampire had sensed him before the initial cave-in, though he was sure he was just being paranoid. This was an important task that Dehevret had given to him. Jigal didn't want to disappoint.

A small ledge lay ahead that led up to the surface. Large puddles of water covered it, courtesy of the recent flooding and earthquakes. Just what Jigal needed.

As Jigal reached the ledge, he waited until the sounds of splashing had disappeared to ensure that he would not be heard by them before taking out his herbs and calling his master.

He couldn't help the sigh of relief when Dehevret's face appeared in the puddle. Jigal was unused to being on his own for so long.

"Jigal, I trust you've done as I asked?" Dehevret inquired.

Jigal nodded. "Of course, Master. I delayed them for several hours, as you requested."

"Good. I've sent my representatives ahead. They should get there first to discuss the situation with the sorcerer. I'm pleased with your work, Jigal."

"Thank you, Master. There's something else. I overhead the two talking when they were trapped in the tunnels. The girl…they called her the 'slayer'."

Dehevret's eyes widened as he frowned. Jigal began to tremble. He had somehow angered his master.

"Perhaps I misheard," Jigal said quickly.

"No," Dehevret said. "I believe you heard correctly. The Slayer…that would explain a lot," he mused to himself. He brought his attention back to Jigal. "Continue to follow them for now until they get to Wyver's. Then check in with me again."

Jigal bowed eagerly. "Yes, Master. I am at your command."

Dehevret grinned. "I'm well aware of that, Jigal. Be well."

Jigal watched as his master's face disappeared from the water in front of him. He had hoped to have been able to return home now. However, his master wished for him to continue his work, so Jigal would happily obey. For him.

_tbc..._


	6. The Least Worst Option

**Chapter Six: The Least Worst Option**

Sixteen days since she'd had a hit. Sixteen long, tortuous days.

If she'd known she'd have to go sixteen days without any coke, Buffy would have prepared herself better. Done a huge coke binge before being taken off the stuff. Let her addiction go out with a bang.

Now, though, it felt like she had just prematurely ended her relationship with coke, and she was desperately craving some closure. One last good-bye.

Too bad Spike wouldn't let her.

He'd been easier to deal with the past few days, though. Ever since that cave-in. Buffy had this surreal feeling that they'd reached some sort of understanding. What that understanding was, she wasn't quite sure. But there was a cease-fire of sorts on the hostility between them.

What was bothering her even more was his sudden protectiveness towards her. Again, starting with that cave-in, when he'd shielded her body from the falling rocks in an uncharacteristically concerned gesture. Since then, he'd often offered his hand to help her climb if need-be, and had gone out of his way to threaten demons who looked at her as they might their next meal.

It was disconcerting to say the least. It was almost as if he _cared_. Which was a ridiculous notion in her mind. A souled vampire caring for a whore. No, she was fairly certain he was just protecting his way home. That was what he wanted her for, after all.

In addition to the protectiveness, he'd also been increasingly distracted. At times, she could have sworn that he was sensing someone following them, but he never shared his thoughts with her. Hell, he never shared anything with her. When Buffy asked what he was listening for, he just shook his head and continued walking.

Fortunately for him, they were one step closer to getting home than they had been before. After days of trekking through the underground tunnels, they'd finally reached the mountainside town of Cathela where the sorcerer, Wyver, lived.

His residence was outside of town on a road that scaled the side of the mountain. The road evened out to a wide ledge with a simple, yet large, stone house on it.

It was just past midnight as they approached, and Buffy found herself hoping that Wyver was a nocturnal demon. She didn't want to piss him off by waking him up. It's not good to piss off a sorcerer.

When Spike knocked on the door, however, a short Latina woman answered almost immediately. There were black bags under her eyes, and stray wisps of hair escaped from her messy ponytail. She didn't look at all surprised to see them.

Spike spoke. "We're looking for - "

"Wyver," the woman interrupted. "Yes, of course you are. I'm his assistant. Come in."

She stood aside, letting Spike and Buffy enter the house. The front room had all the appearance of a doctor's waiting room. Overstuffed armchairs in warm, red hues dotted the room, accompanied by towering fake ferns. An oblong coffee table housed an array of magic books instead of the out-of-date magazines one might expect in a doctor's office. A dining area lay to the side with a small table and chairs. Across the entrance was a door marked "Lab", and a small hallway led into darkness at the far end of the lounge.

Buffy joined Spike's side in the middle of the room, waiting for the woman to get Wyver. She didn't leave the room, though.

"I'm sorry," she said. "But I'm afraid Wyver is very ill and cannot see anyone right now. I'm Avery, and I'd be happy to help you with anything you need."

Spike sucked in his cheeks in irritation. "Sorry, luv, but we're not needing a slave here - "

Avery's eyes flashed. "I'm _not_ a slave! I told you. I'm his assistant. He's taught me everything he knows." She paused. "We're partners."

Spike looked skeptical. "Partners, right. Well, _partner_, we need you to translate some text for us and then do something about a sealing spell that's been put on the girl." He waved a hand at Buffy.

"'The girl' has a name," Buffy said. "I'm Buffy. This is Spike."

Avery nodded as Buffy made the introductions. Much as she tried, Buffy couldn't brush aside the feeling that Avery had been expecting them.

"What's the text?" Avery asked.

Without a word, Spike unzipped the duffel and dug out the book, displaying the cover to Avery.

"Book of Langlar," Spike said.

"Interested in portals?" Avery asked. She took the book without waiting for an answer, opening it up to glance at the pages. "I can work on this later." She set the book down. "I'd actually like to take a look at you, Buffy. What type of sealing spell is this?"

Buffy shrugged while rubbing at her nose. "The type that seals stuff?"

"She has powers," Spike said. "Bunch of demons sealed 'em up. We need them back."

"I see." Avery focused her attention on Buffy. "Spike, why don't you stay out here while I take Buffy back to the lab? See what I can find out about this sealing spell."

Spike stepped forward. "None too fond of being separated like that, actually. Funny, I don't smell your master at all."

Avery rolled her eyes at Spike. "He's a wizard. He has a cloaking spell on himself specifically to keep demons like _you_ from snooping on him."

Spike snorted. "Still doesn't seem right - "

"We'll be fine," Buffy said. When Spike looked at her in surprise, she turned away to avoid his gaze. "She's gonna help, after all, right?" The last thing she needed was protection from another slave. That is, from a slave. Buffy wasn't a slave anymore. She had to keep reminding herself of that sometimes.

Leaving Spike in the lounge, Buffy followed Avery through the locked door to the lab. The lab was several times larger than any of Buffy's chemistry labs in school. Test tubes, flasks, stirrers and more were arranged in a mad scientist set-up in the middle of the room. A rainbow of different-colored potions dripped through the tubes.

Along the walls were shelves upon shelves of more equipment and supplies. Labeled jars contained a variety of oddities, some of which Buffy recognized from the Magic Box. Some of the contents, though, were a complete mystery to her. One seemingly empty jar merely read "Space" on the label.

In addition to the magical paraphernalia, the shelves also housed standard herbs. Buffy wandered freely, browsing through the selection. Sage, borage, bergamot, cannabis. Buffy paused. Cannabis?

"You have drugs?" She turned to Avery who was sorting through some books at the other end of the room.

Avery barely looked up. "Huh? Oh, yes. Wyver has just about everything you might want here."

Buffy bit her lip. Everything? "Do you have cocaine?"

Okay, so there was no way to ask that casually. The question landed like a lead weight in the middle of the room. Avery stopped entirely and looked up at her.

After an awkward pause, Buffy shook her head. "Never mind. Just...just a thought." She wrapped her arms around her torso, berating herself for her slip. She thought she was past this.

There was a soft thump as Avery set down a stack of books on a small, wooden table near Buffy. Avery sat in one of the chairs, gesturing for Buffy to take the other one.

"You got hooked on the stuff?" Avery asked as Buffy sat down.

Buffy nodded, looking down at the table.

"I think Wyver has his own stash somewhere. Not sure where. It's not really used much for magical purposes."

A stash somewhere...Buffy looked at the other woman who was browsing through the pages of a large tome. Perhaps it would be worth it to take a look for that stash sometime. After all, one small hit couldn't hurt her. And she deserved _something_ for going so long without any.

"So, this partner thing...how'd that happen?" Buffy said, searching for conversation. It'd been so long since she'd talked to another human.

Avery looked up and smiled. "I had a few other owners before. A couple vamps." She tilted her head to the side, showing her scarred neck to Buffy. "The day Wyver bought me was one of the best days of my life. He said he wanted an assistant, not a slave." She looked back down at the book. "He's kind to me."

"I've been lucky, too," Buffy said. "I mean, yeah, at first I had some really nasty owners. But then Trevil bought me and he was so nice. Gave me anything I wanted."

Avery laughed. "See, there's some good ones out there." An awkward silence fell between the two of them as Avery flipped through the pages. "And the vampire you're with now? Spike?"

"He doesn't own me," Buffy blurted out. "We're partners."

"So you're free to leave him?"

"What?"

Avery bit her lip. "He'd let you do that? Walk away? Be on your own?"

Buffy shook her head. She'd dealt with this. She and Spike. They'd reached an understanding. They were partners, working to go home. "I don't want to leave him."

"You're not from here, are you, Buffy?" Avery asked. "The book you two are needing...it's about portals. You're from another world, right?"

This wasn't a secret, was it? Buffy wasn't sure. Spike was playing his cards close to his chest. She didn't know if this was information she could give out or not. What was the harm, though? Avery and Wyver were supposed to help them get home anyway.

Buffy nodded.

Avery trailed her finger along a groove in the wooden table. A nervous gesture. "Do you want to go home?"

Buffy laughed. "Well, yeah. Of course. I mean, it's home, right?"

Home with her family and friends. Her mom, her sister, her room. Home where she owned the demons; they didn't own her. Where she didn't have to worry about being a slave or a whore.

Well, not have to worry until they found out. And they would find out. Spike would open his big mouth or…

No, it would just be written on her face. They'd see her, and they'd know what she had done to survive in this world. They'd know that she'd fucked demons. God, what would her mother say? How could Buffy possibly explain all the things she'd done? To her mom…her sister. Dawn, she had to be a role model for Dawn. And when she got back she'd be...

A whore. That's what she'd be. Forever. They'd be so disappointed in her. They'd tell her that there had been another way. That there are _always_ other ways.

Her eyes were wet. "Why - " Buffy stopped as the lump formed in her throat. She swallowed. "Why do you get _this_?" She looked around the lab. "The partnership? The…freedom? While I've been fucking demons for the past five years?" She shook her head. "It's not fair!"

Avery looked away. "Life often isn't."

Buffy scooted her chair back to get some distance. She tried not to cry. She really did. But her mother's face kept appearing in her mind, letting her know exactly what she had to look forward to if she did get home. "They're gonna hate me."

"Who?"

"My family. My friends. They'll...god, I'm so dirty. They'll see it. And they'll hate it. And _me_..." Buffy trailed off, unable to talk anymore. She curled inward, hiding her face from the other woman.

This was it. The reason she couldn't go home. She couldn't possibly show her face back in Sunnydale after all she'd done. They'd never look at her the same way again. The Buffy they knew had died years ago, and she was just a used and dirty substitute. Faded away by years of fucking and drugs. She felt closer to the demons now than she did the humans.

One by one, she noted down what each of her friends' reactions would be. And her mother. It always came back to her mother. She was supposed to be the hero. Instead, she was a disappointment.

_"Mom, I've spent the last five years in another dimension. I survived by becoming a prostitute."_

"A whore? Buffy, there had to have been another way to get by. I thought you were stronger than that. Dawn, get out of here. I don't want you around your sister."

"Ew, Buffy! Why'd you let them do that to you? You're the Slayer, right?"

"Buff, did you have to screw them? I mean, self-respect just vanish through the portal or something?"

"Hey, Buffy, it's okay. I mean, I guess it's understandable that you had to be a...you know...hooker over there. Cause fighting all the time? Kinda tiring. And, you know, doing that might be easier. And...well, did you enjoy it? Cause, demons...kinda ick. But maybe you enjoyed it…which is kinda ick. But...hey at least we still have Faith as the Slayer, right?"

She couldn't go back. Buffy couldn't face that. She wasn't strong enough.

"I never knew my family," Avery said, breaking through Buffy's thoughts.

Buffy didn't answer, but her crying slowed. Instead of the sobs she'd had before, she just had unstoppable tears running down her face.

"Wyver's the closest thing I've got to family," Avery continued. She laughed. "He told me that he knew what my other owners had done to me, but he doesn't care. Because as long as I'm with him, I'm a free woman."

As long as she's with him…Buffy smiled. "What's he sick with? Will we get to meet him?"

Avery looked back down at the book in front of her, "Probably not. He fell ill a few days ago. He's really not up to seeing anybody." She paused. "We can break that sealing spell on you."

Buffy's heart forgot to beat for a brief second. She'd almost forgotten about that. "How do you know? I mean, do you know how they sealed my powers?"

Avery glanced at her. "I can see your aura. It's restrained. It wants to burst out, but it's trapped." She smoothed out the page with her finger. "I can free it."

"How?"

"We'll have to wait until tomorrow night. We need the full moon. But there is a ritual. It won't be difficult."

"Will it hurt?" Buffy remembered the pain that came when she had lost her powers. She couldn't help but be afraid of going through that again.

Avery shrugged. "I don't know. I've never had a sealing spell taken off me before." She folded the corner of the page before closing the book. "Why don't you and Spike settle down for the day? Get some rest. I'll work on translating your book on portals in the meantime." She stood. "Let me show you where you can sleep."

Avery led Buffy to a small guest room containing one bed and nothing else. The living area of the house was tiny. Just a short hallway with a few rooms attached. The master bedroom was off-limits due to Wyver's illness, and the bedroom at the end of the hall belonged to Avery. Buffy's host left her alone in the empty, desolate guest room.

She sat down on the bed, trying to keep the springs from creaking. She didn't know where Spike was. Avery seemed unconcerned about his absence, but Buffy was not used to being separated from him for so long.

Okay, so she'd been getting tired of him always stepping in to protect her from things. But she had grown accustomed to his company, twisted as that may seem. And especially now, when she was, again, having second thoughts about going home...she wanted him there to set her straight. She needed him to tell her what she wanted, because what she _actually_ wanted wasn't good for her and she knew it.

God, she was so fucked up.

Now that they'd actually arrived here and they were one step closer to getting home, all her fears kept bouncing around in her head. The worst was the knowledge that she _could_ have left Trevil. Many times. She had had ample opportunity to walk out of the brothel to freedom.

But she never had. She had stayed with him. She had stayed and she fucked and she snorted the coke and she was _happy_ to be there.

The very thought disgusted her.

Her room there at the brothel. The cushy bed with the luxurious throw pillows. She stayed there. The door was unlocked. The path to the outside was clear. Buffy knew that. She _always_ knew that. And yet, she stayed. She stayed and waited for Trevil to send a customer in to her.

_She_ disgusted her.

"Well, the room's not _that_ bad, Slayer."

Buffy looked up as Spike entered the room. He tossed the duffel in the corner and shed his duster before closing the door. Buffy realized that she still had tears streaking down her face. She hurriedly brushed at her cheeks, trying to wipe the tears away.

"Where've you been?" Buffy asked in a quivery voice. She cleared her throat, hoping he wouldn't notice. Or wouldn't care.

Spike shrugged, "Looking through some of the books they have in that lounge. Interesting stuff about this world."

"What 'stuff'?"

"Just stuff." Spike obviously wasn't willing to share. He looked back over at her. "What's with the waterworks?"

She didn't answer the question. "Avery says she can take the sealing spell off. Tonight. The full moon."

"Be back up to your full strength, then."

"Yeah," Buffy said. "Spike, I don't think I can go back to Sunnydale."

He crossed his arms, standing directly before where she sat in the bed. He looked down at her. "Uh-huh. And what's the problem now?"

Buffy kept her eyes on the checkered pattern of the bedspread so she wouldn't have to look at him. "I just think it's best if I don't go back. So they won't know...what I've done. I mean, I can help you go back, and you can just tell them I...I dunno...I died. Tell them I died."

Buffy felt the weight of the bed shift as Spike sat beside her, but she continued not looking at him. An overbearing silence fell over them.

Finally Spike spoke. "Don't know 'bout that, pet. Think your mum might hit me with an axe again. And _not_ the blunt side this time."

She knew she was supposed to laugh at that, but she didn't have it in her. She tried for a smile but ended up sniffling. Then she started crying. Again. Dammit.

Buffy startled when Spike touched her shoulder. When he slid his hand across her back in an attempt to put his arm around her, Buffy pushed him away and backed up against the wall.

"Don't touch me!" she shrieked. She'd been touched by enough demons. One more and who knew what she might turn into?

She huddled by the wall where the bed met the corner of the room. Spike kept his distance after her outburst.

"Tell you what, pet. I know all about what you used to do, but none of that matters now that you're with me. We're partners, yeh?" He sighed. "'Sides, you'll get your powers back soon and be the Slayer again."

She gave no response. Her skin was still crawling from where he had touched her.

After a few moment's silence, Spike scooted himself across the bed so his back was against the wall and leaned his head back. "Get some sleep, yeh? Got an odd feeling 'bout this. It's that woman. She's not quite right."

Buffy leaned her head against the wooden paneling, trying not to think about what might happen if she got back through the portal. Home had seemed an impossibly distant place up until now. Now that it was hovering on the horizon she found herself terrified of it.

It had been easier. How had it been easier?

Oh yeah. The drugs. When she was on her drugs, everything had been better. Nothing had mattered.

If only she could have a hit.

She let her gaze wander to the side where Spike had fallen asleep sitting up against the wall. Avery had said that Wyver had a stash of stuff somewhere. If Buffy could find it…

But she wasn't supposed to do that stuff anymore. She was stronger than that.

Wasn't she?

But her life had been so much _better_ on it. It had been bearable. And now she felt life crushing her. She couldn't breathe with the weight of her own actions on her shoulders. The drugs…well, they could lighten the load.

Nobody would have to know. Just one hit. Then everything would be better.

Buffy unfolded her legs, moving lightly so as to not make the bed springs creak. She padded gently across the room, wincing as the door squeaked loudly on its hinges. She stood statue-still, anticipating Spike's response.

There was none. He mumbled and shifted in his sleep, but that was all.

She sighed in relief before leaving, closing the door behind her.

If Wyver had his own personal stash, then he probably had it in his room with him. Buffy regretted disturbing him while he was ill, but, then again, he'd most likely be sleeping anyway. It was worth the risk.

Buffy felt like a little kid sneaking into her parent's bedroom. Though it was dark, she could see the body lying on the bed on the other side of the room, and she held her breath in an attempt to not make any noise.

So focused was she on not breathing that she completely missed the fold in the rug beneath her feet. Her toe snagged the wrinkle, causing her to trip and almost fall forward onto the bed. She caught herself but not before letting out a small yell in her panic.

She stopped then as her eyes focused on the figure on the bed. It was a demon, alright. A hunched-over, older-looking demon. Blood-soaked, elongated fingers splayed against the crimson sheets. There were large, glistening gashes on its neck where blood still slowly leaked out onto the bed. His eye remained open from when he died, a look of stark desperation and shock on his alien face.

Buffy backed away. Wyver was dead. Very dead. Spike? He had been missing for a while. But why would he kill the wizard who was supposed to help them? Spike had been acting oddly lately. Perhaps he'd changed his mind about this whole "going home" thing. Maybe Wyver had said something to offend Spike. Buffy had been a witness to Spike's demonic bloodlust before. She could easily imagine him being responsible for a scene such as this.

So much blood. Splattered all across the bed, on the floor, on the walls. It had been a massacre.

Buffy jumped when her backwards motion was impeded. She whirled around to see Avery standing behind her. The other woman was looking at Wyver's body with a distant stare.

Buffy gripped her arm, trying for a comforting gesture. She knew the woman would be in shock at the news. "Avery, he's dead."

Avery bit her lip while nodding. "I know." She placed her hand over Buffy's. "I killed him."

***

The attic had proven to be the perfect place for Jigal to stay while the two visited the wizard. His enhanced hearing enabled him to listen to the conversations going on below him. Unfortunately, it also meant he was dangerously close to the vampire, and Jigal was certain that his presence had been detected while on the road.

Now, though, he had to contact Dehevret. His orders prompted him to send word if an emergency occurred.

He had a bowl of water with him and he sprinkled the familiar herbs across it. Dehevret's face appeared but did little to calm Jigal's nerves.

"Master, there is a complication." Jigal noticed the barely-perceptible flicker of annoyance across his master's face. His breathing came faster. "It's the vampire's slave…"

"Yes, of course. I suppose I should have expected that," Dehevret said without Jigal even having to explain what the problem was. "Jigal, it looks like we'll need to go to our contingency plan. I'm relying on you now."

That's what Jigal had been frightened of. He began to tremble, but he tried not to let his fear show. "Yes, Master," he said. "I won't disappoint you."

_tbc..._


	7. Slaves

**Chapter Seven: Slaves**

_Her screams could wake the dead. Maybe they were supposed to. A frantic cry out to any corpse that might be able to help. She was stranded. Stuck in that hell of a world, the door sealed off. She was crying, pleading for him to help her. Save her. Why couldn't he save her?_

A resonant thud woke Spike up.

As the images of his dream faded from his mind, the first thing he noticed was that Buffy was missing. The place where she had sat was cooling. She'd been gone for a while.

He didn't waste time processing this, however, as he heard yelling coming from across the hallway. Instinct kicked in and he was up and running in an instant.

The vibrant smell of blood assaulted his senses as he entered the wizard's room. A kill just a few days old festered on the bed. Buffy stood over Avery with her hand curled in a fist, shouting.

Okay, that last one took priority.

"You said he was kind to you!" Buffy yelled down at Avery. "Why would you...why?"

Avery held a hand to her bruised jaw with an indignant frown on her face. She looked at Spike briefly before glaring back up at Buffy. She stood, holding onto the wall for support.

"You hit me again," Avery said in a low voice, carefully enunciating her syllables. "And I'll do a spell that liquefies your heart, you dirty whore."

Spike saw the flash in Buffy's eyes before she even raised her fist again. Fortunately, he was faster than her without her powers. He snatched her elbow before it completed its path and shook his head.

"Let's hear her out, shall we?" he said. It never did any good to piss off a witch.

Buffy's muscles relaxed only slightly, but she lowered her fist to cross her arms. "Fine. Please tell us why you _murdered_ your master."

Avery didn't even flinch. "I did what I had to. He wouldn't cooperate with them so they came to me. Offered me a deal."

"Who's 'they'?" Spike asked.

"Dehevret's men. They stopped by here a few days before you arrived."

Fuck. Spike knew they'd gotten the book too damn easily. He just wondered what Dehevret's angle in this was. Never failed. He had a simple goal. Get home. Shouldn't affect anybody else, but of course. No. The universe had to throw curves at him and make things as difficult as possible. Fucking world.

"What did they want?" Buffy asked before Spike could.

Avery shrugged. "Nothing too complicated. Wyver just hated Dehevret. Had some bad dealings with him in the past. Refused to help at all."

"Funny. That doesn't answer the question," Spike said. "What did they want?"

"Information," she said. "On you two. And then they wanted Wyver to make sure Buffy could get back through the portal."

Spike frowned. "They want her to _go through_ the portal? They don't wanna stop her?"

Avery shook her head. "They want her going home. Wyver refused, though. Said he would make sure Buffy was stuck on this side. So they offered me a deal behind his back."

"What deal was that?" Buffy asked.

"What other deal would there be? Freedom." Avery shrugged. "Dehevret could make it happen. Give me complete freedom. Make it so I could walk around and do what I like and nobody would try to kill or enslave me." She laughed. "I couldn't really turn that down, could I?"

Without any warning, Buffy grabbed Avery by the back of the neck and swung her around so she was facing the bloody corpse on the bed. Buffy pushed Avery's head down close to the remains of her master.

"You said he was good to you," Buffy accused. "And you did this to him? Massacred him? So you could walk around freely in this hell?"

Avery gritted her teeth as she attempted to escape from Buffy's grip. She bucked with all her weight, nearly successful in throwing Buffy off. Buffy responded by placing a knee on the woman's back to push her down. Avery scowled. "Funny that you're condemning me when you've probably fucked every demon on the continent for some drug money."

Buffy grabbed Avery's hair, tilting her head to force her to look at the body on the bed. Avery kept trying to avoid it. "You said you were partners," Buffy said.

"We were," Avery said, the anger and resistance leaking from her voice. "We were partners. Please, I don't wanna look at it." Her eyes were shut tight.

Buffy sighed and released Avery, shoving her away from the bed. Avery stumbled but managed to remain standing. She rubbed the back of her neck where Buffy had gripped her. "He _was_ kind to me," she said softly, not meeting Buffy's gaze. "We were happy here together. And as long as I stayed in his house, I was free.

"But it's not good enough." She looked up at Buffy, tears beginning to streak down her cheeks. "Wyver gave me everything he could, but it wasn't enough. Dehevret...he could give me more."

"And so it makes it okay for you to kill him?" Buffy asked.

"A slave with a kind master is still a slave." Avery looked down. "I didn't want to be a slave anymore."

"That's the most bullshit reason I've ever heard for murder."

"Now, pet," Spike intervened finally. Entertaining as it was to watch two women fight it out, this was just wasting time. "Let's give her some slack, yeh? After all, she did help us out. Wyver wasn't going to get us home. She will, though. Right?" He leveled his gaze at the brunette.

Avery nodded. "Of course."

"Now, tell me how we make sure Buffy gets through that portal," Spike said. "And why is it so important to Dehevret?"

Avery's gaze wandered back to the body on the bed. "Can we take this to the lounge?"

Turns out the change in venue also required refreshments before Avery was ready to talk. Spike sat impatiently on the edge of the sofa, tapping his foot while waiting for Avery to take a sip from her coffee cup. Buffy sat fuming across the room.

"I don't know why Dehevret wants Buffy through the portal," Avery said while putting down her cup. "I have a few guesses, though."

"Go on."

"From what I've gathered in my readings, your world is a mirror of this one."

"Complete opposites, more like," Spike said.

"Exactly. And they're linked. Two completely distinct worlds with only one key difference: Your world has a Slayer," Avery glanced at Buffy. "Ours doesn't."

"Okay, so our world has a chosen girl. What's that got to do with anything?"

"It has everything to do with anything. The Slayer is the key between the two worlds." Avery shook her head, pausing to consider her wording. "Because of the Slayer, your world is weighted Good in the grand scheme of things. Ours is just the opposite. It's weighted Evil. In order to cross from one world to the other, you have to 'fit' in with that world's nature."

"Right, that's why I needed a soul to get back over."

"Yes. However, the Slayer doesn't have that restriction. As a warrior for Good, she can cross over whenever she likes."

Well, that was a fucking relief. Buffy still had her soul intact, after all.

"So Dehevret just wants Buffy out of this world?" Spike asked.

Avery shook her head. "I think it's more than that. The portal's like a door. When someone crosses from your side to this side, the door is open. Nobody's allowed to cross over until that person goes back to the other side. The door's just stuck."

Spike rubbed his forehead. "So Dehevret needs Buffy to go back through to unstick the door."

"Right." Avery bit her lip. "I'm not sure why, though. The Slayer has the ability to cross over, even when the door's stuck. But the portal still works the same. Nobody else is able to use it until she goes back. So even if she _did_ cross back over, the portal's just not very useful. It's a small door with limited access."

Spike shrugged, "I've given up trying to figure out why Evil does what it does. I'm just trying to work around it. Now Dehevret didn't say anything about me?"

"Well, he mentioned you were traveling with her. He didn't say anything about making sure you get through the portal, though."

Spike nodded. "Guess I'm just extra baggage then."

"I can still do the spell to get rid of the seal on Buffy's powers tonight. Then I'll give you the information you need for the portal."

"Aren't you just Miss Helpful?" Buffy interrupted bitterly.

Avery turned to her with a shrug. "My deal with Dehevret's still in place. I give you the information you need to get through the portal and then I'll be a free woman."

Buffy laughed. "Right. I hope it's worth it." She stood abruptly and walked out of the room and into the hallway.

With just a quick glance at Avery, Spike was up and following her before she could get too far. She'd stopped, though, and was leaning against the wall with her arms folded, pensive look on her face.

"Okay, Buffy. You do know that we still _need_ her, right?" Spike asked, irritated by her behavior.

"She's just a greedy bitch," Buffy shrugged. "She killed him."

"Yeah, and?"

"He was good to her."

"Like your pimp was to you?" Spike tilted his head.

Buffy flushed, her muscles tensing at Spike's accurate guess. "She would have been better off with her master. Freedom in _this_ world isn't worth it. She's just a murderer."

"That what this is? You're just pissed that you settled for the life of a whore while she had the balls to try to be more than a slave?"

Buffy pushed away from the wall, fist curling, though she didn't throw any punches. Her teeth were gritted though and her jaw was firm in anger. "I had no other options."

"And she did, so she took it. You're just mad that you gave up a long time ago."

"No, I'm 'just mad' that _you_ \- "

Spike cut Buffy off with a hand gesture. He wasn't imagining it. There was a noise. A soft scratching noise coming from the guest room. Buffy had the good sense to shut the fuck up.

Vampire senses on alert, Spike entered the guest room. He only had a brief visual flash of a creature clinging to the wall like an insect before he went into game-face, grabbing hold of the being around its neck and slamming it to the ground. He pinned it down and applied pressure to its throat. The thing wheezed.

It was a Yral demon. Even more hated than vampires because of its soul. Spike was surprised to see one out in the world. They ordinarily stayed hidden.

Spike raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you tell me exactly who you are, why you're following us, and who you're working for?"

The demon exhaled through rotted teeth. The Yral were mouth-breathers; they had no noses. Disgusting vermin. "Dehevret."

"What the hell is that?" Buffy peered over his shoulder, trying to get a good look at the creature.

Spike glanced back at her in annoyance, busy processing what the thing had just told him. Dehevret. Fucking bastard had had a tail on them the entire time.

"Hey, you're the demon from Dehevret's chambers," Buffy said.

The demon choked, unable to articulate any words with Spike's hand around his throat. It was strange. Spike thought he sensed his glow telling him _not_ to release the creature. But they needed all the information they could get. Relaxing his muscles, Spike sat up slightly to give the demon room to breathe.

"I am...but a servant," the thing used jagged fingers to rub its throat. "I do as commanded."

"Right, and what were _you_ commanded to do?" Spike was getting really pissed now.

"Observe and report." The demon trembled.

"Do you have a name?" Buffy asked, still standing behind Spike.

Spike barely glanced backwards. "Doesn't matter what his name is. He's gonna be dead in a few moments."

Buffy moved forward as a low gurgle came from the demon's throat. "No, he's not," she said. "He has a soul. He hasn't done anything. Besides, he's our only real link to Dehevret. We should keep him. Make him work for us."

Spike resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "And how do we 'make him work for us'? Ask nicely? And weren't you just having a hissy fit about _Avery_ betraying her master?"

Buffy knelt beside Spike. She ignored him and focused her attention on the other demon. "Back in our world, your kind aren't as hated as they are here. There are safe places for you. I have a friend that could help locate one. You wouldn't have to live in service to another for protection."

"You're asking me to betray my master."

"Yes," Buffy paused. "What's your name?"

There was a long hesitation. So long, Spike was just about ready to reach out and snap the creature's neck. Finally, though, it answered. "I'm called Jigal."

"Well, this is touching. The happy couple taking in their first pet." Spike looked behind him. Avery stood in the doorway, arms folded in front of her. She was staring at the scene with detached amusement. "I hate to interrupt, but there's one more item of importance."

Spike stood while turning to face her. "Yeah?"

"Before he...died, Wyver contacted Ugvan to let him know of your presence here. Ugvan's men will be here soon to collect the debt you owe."

"How soon's 'soon'?"

Avery shrugged. "Hard to say. We probably have a few hours. You'll have to stand guard when I'm doing the unsealing spell on Buffy."

"And you couldn't have told us this earlier?"

Avery rubbed her bruised face, eyes briefly glancing at Buffy. "Slipped my mind."

***

Spike's gaze wandered across the lounge to where Buffy sat conversing softly with Jigal. He didn't like having the small demon among them. However, Buffy had a point. He could be useful. Plus, Spike could kill him if he stepped out of line, so he considered him neutralized as a threat.

It was just damned frustrating to find out that that creature had been tailing them ever since they'd seen Dehevret. It was even more frustrating to realize that there were larger movements at play that might prevent them from getting home.

Except...Dehevret _wanted_ Buffy to get home. To what purpose, Spike didn't know. Spike himself was obviously expendable.

Avery had retreated to the lab to prepare for the spell, and Spike had gathered all the books she had on these portals. He finally had the directions for opening the portal. It required being at a very exact place and reciting some nonsense magical words. More traveling. Fortunately, it wasn't to be a long journey.

Buffy was sympathetic to Jigal. Even when she outright hated Avery. Spike didn't see the difference. Okay, so Avery had killed her master. They were still attempting to get Jigal to double-cross _his_ master. Girl had a fucked up sense of priorities.

She drove him up the bloody wall. He felt an urge to just grab her, shake her, gag her, force her to stop nagging and asking irritating questions. But his glow - no, more than his glow. He couldn't do it. Because, despite what he'd expected from her at the beginning, she was trying.

He remembered being in love with her before they'd been sent to this world. It had been her passion and fervor that had done it. It compelled him. And now that she was trying to be more than just a victim...

Alright, yeah, there might be some feelings of affection coming up. Odd, that. He hadn't felt affection for anyone for so long. He wasn't sure what to do with it.

She was twitchy at the moment, though. On edge. Even now, while talking in hushed tones to Jigal, she fidgeted and looked distracted. Something was up.

Come to think of it, why had she been in Wyver's room? The question hadn't even occurred to him in the midst of the chaos.

She stood. As she did, Spike quickly looked back at the book he had in front of him. Better than to seem like he actually gave a damn.

"I'm uh...going to the bathroom," she announced.

She left the lobby. Spike looked up at Jigal. The other demon was cowering on the sofa, shaking. Damn Yrals. Might have souls, but they lacked backbones.

Well, literally, cause they had an exoskeleton. But metaphorically, too.

Spike leaned over to fetch his duffel. The sound of the zipper caused Jigal to flinch. Spike wondered how closely this thing had been watching them since they'd left Dehevret's. Might have seen some interesting sights.

Spike pulled the length of rope from the duffel. Best to tie it up. Couldn't really trust it at this point. Surely Buffy wouldn't have any objection to that.

It whined as he did the knots. A high-pitched noise like a banshee. Exasperating, and if there were a way to gag it, he would. The jaw wasn't hinged, though. Spike would just have to ignore it. He'd gotten some experience ignoring annoying noises during this trip.

Once he finished, it occurred to him that Buffy had been in the bathroom for a while. The sun was setting outside. Avery should have the spell ready soon. Providing Buffy hadn't snuck off to attack her, that is.

Spike sighed. Things were just never easy.

He left Jigal tied up and entered the residential area of the house. As he feared, the bathroom was empty. There was the distinct sound of Buffy's laughter emanating from Wyver's room, though.

When he walked into the room full of blood, Buffy turned to him with a huge smile. She looked to almost be bouncing out of her skin.

Oh, fuck.

"Spike!" She was on him in an instant, clutching at his chest and pressing herself against his body. "God, you smell fucking good." She inhaled his scent, nose tickling at his neck. "Think we should do it? Here? Fuck me beside the body?"

Her eyes were huge, pupils dilated, and her nose was red. Damn bitch had found some coke. Hadn't they gotten past this?

Ignoring the response of his own body, he gripped her by the shoulders and held her at length from him. "What the bloody fuck are you doing, Buffy? Now is not the time for you to get back on the snow."

She pouted, scratching at his shirt like a cat in heat. "Awww, but I was nervous." She grinned. "If my family and friends are gonna think of me as a whore, might as well go all-out, right?"

Buffy laughed and pulled herself away from Spike to run to the bed in the middle of the room. She crawled onto the mattress, waggling her ass playfully as she laid down beside the brutalized body of Wyver.

"Think we could fuck the death right out of this room?"

Oh, how tempting. And if he were half the demon he used to be, he'd do it in a heartbeat.

But he didn't need the glow to tell him that now wasn't the time. His already throbbing erection might protest, but Spike hadn't survived this long by blindly following that thing.

"I'm not so sure about the Slayer powers," Buffy mused while staring up at the canopy. Her arms were outstretched on either side of her, one of them draped casually over Wyver's corpse. The blood stained her arm. "They probably wouldn't want to give their powers to such a dirty, dirty girl."

This thought apparently amused her. She began giggling, bringing a hand to her mouth. She was soon wracked with delight.

Spike considered his options. Right about now, using the ropes to tie _her_ up seemed good. Bind her, put her through the spell, wait for her to sober up, then leave. Should work.

She shrieked then. Eyes wide and frantically gazing at the corpse beside her. In her reaction, she fell off the bed. As soon as she touched the ground, though, she began ooching backwards into the corner.

"She fucking slaughtered him!" she cried. "It's _horrible_! And she didn't clean him up so he's just _there_ like it's a kink or something. Cause people do that, you know? They wanna fuck beside dead bodies cause it gets them off."

Spike stepped forward, unsure whether he should try to calm her down or not. She pulled at her hair and pressed herself back against the wall as if she'd be able to go right through it.

"I'm so disgusting. My mom's gonna hate me," she sobbed.

That did it. Spike crossed the room and knelt down beside her.

"Calm down, pet. You're not disgusting." Even though he was sure he'd said so on several occasions.

Fuck, he was a bastard sometimes. The glow always told him as much.

He reached for her in an attempt to bring her into an embrace. Comfort-type thing. Spike didn't have much experience with that, but that was what his instincts were telling him to do.

"No!" Buffy resisted. "Don't! You're poison! Cats don't hug the mouse! Why are we so high up, Spike? It's like I'm gonna fall off and never reach the bottom! My throat is closing up, and I don't even know how to scream. And all the people surrounding me already know that I've failed!"

She gave up trying to push him away as she babbled. Instead she went limp and sobbed openly. Spike held her to him, not sure what to say. Her heart was pounding so fast, Spike actually worried her body wouldn't be able to take it.

Bad trip. Perfect timing.

There were footsteps in the hall. He looked up. Avery was in the doorway. If she was surprised at the scene, she didn't show it.

"There you are," she said. "Spell's set, and sun's down. We need to do this now. You guys ready?"

_tbc..._


	8. Action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the throes of a very bad coke trip, Buffy struggles with herself and Spike about getting her Slayer powers back.

Spike's arms wrapped around her back and lifted her off the ground to pick her up. She shoved against him, batting him away. She kept contact with the floor. His touch was too close. There should be rules against that sort of thing.

"Buffy," he said.

Oh no. No no no. Her head ducked towards her knees and she put her hands over her ears. Too loud. All the sound filling and bouncing around her head. The word, her name, resonating and burrowing and growing. Like worms in her brain.

"Fuck..." The word came under his breath, riding gracefully on the air molecules between them.

Fuck. She couldn't keep it out of her mind. He'd put the word in there, after all. Words saturating her skin and soul and being. Fuck fuck fuck. Buffy. Fuck. Fuckdoll.

Well, why not?

She raised her head. Spike was in sharp contrast. Like someone had messed with the settings on her vision. His body was starkly outlined against the gray background. He was _there_. Her hand gripped his jacket at the shoulder. He tilted his head.

She could fuck him. They'd done it before. Him demon. Her fuckdoll. Way it's supposed to be. And the echoing words in her head twined together in the only way that made sense.

Right. Get her tits out. She lifted her shirt only to have him stop her. Cool hands covered hers and pulled them down.

"No," he said. "Buffy, no. Not...we need to do that spell now, yeah? Get your powers back. Can't do it without your say."

More words. More echoes. No sense.

"Don't want to." She wanted to fuck him. Now. Hard. The drugs tickling and prodding her to _do_. Do _something_. Anything. Him. Spike being so close to her made her buzz with want. "It's...it's not gonna lead anywhere good, you know? Just won't. Pointless."

"It's the only way home."

"Fuck home! No time's passing there anyway, right? This portal? Takes us back right where we left. So if we don't go back, no time goes, nobody misses me, no biggie. That world's just...frozen. Best way to keep it. Sending me back there would ruin it all. Stain the world. Keep the filth in its place. That's what we should do." Words like waterfalls running from her mouth.

"Are you coming? We don't have time." Avery appeared behind Spike's shoulder. She cracked her knuckles in an impatient gesture. Buffy watched, mesmerized as Avery shifted her weight from one booted foot to another.

"Give me a fucking second!" Spike snapped.

Buffy stood on legs that felt like lightning bolts. Energy coursed down the muscles and tendons and bones and whatever else made up the parts of her legs. Maybe she should run...somewhere. Away. Somewhere that was not here.

But not without Spike. He'd become part of her. The color in the gray. Like another arm or something. Stuck together. What was the glue?

Buffy tapped on his chest with antsy hands to get his attention back from Avery. "Come with me, Spike. Come. Come, and we'll...we'll just go."

"What?"

"Cause it makes sense, this. You're a fucking vampire. And I'm a vampire-fucker. And this world is our...you know, our habitat. We'll have a home. A place. Nobody to bother us for anything. And it'll be good. No, no. It'll be _fucking_ good. Better than anything over _there_. You remember? You remember over there?"

His hands were on her arms like she might float away. "I do. I remember you and your friends and your family over there. Don't you want to see them?"

She laughed. "I stopped wanting to see them years ago. It's easier that way."

"So you take the easy way out, then?"

"It's worked so far."

Sudden. Spike banged her back against the wall. The harsh plane impacted with her body. Or her body impacted with the harsh plane. It hurt, whichever way it happened. Spike's vampire features emerged, and his grip bruised. Buffy gasped and pushed against him. His muscles were stronger than her muscles though, and she couldn't break his hold on her. She kicked at his shins, but he held tight.

"Is it working now?" he asked. His head lowered with a growl to her neck. Back to the place that he'd already scarred on her. Bite marks teased with fangs anew. Dead, demon breath exhaled against her throat. It seeped into her skin, making her squirm to get away from it.

She pushed. Felt the strength in her arms and legs, but they seemed as useless as limp socks against him. His body covered hers. Stuck between him and the wall. Like two walls. Except one was drooling demon saliva on her. No way out as his fangs descended. Was he gonna...? But he wouldn't kill her! He needed her!

It's not like pinpricks when a vampire bites you. Pins are skinny. Fangs aren't. They pierced, and they opened her vein wide to let her blood spill out. The pain is vivid and cuts deep. Deeper than skin. Deeper than soul.

Her blood vanished into him. He would drain her like a vessel. Leave her empty. Nothing she could. No way to fight. Nothing. Fighting was pointless.

"Stop," she said.

He shook his head, rooting his teeth further into her flesh. The vein ripped more. His grip on her arms tightened. It felt like he was squeezing his hands right through her as he fed. Drinking slowly. The heat she'd felt turned cool as he took her.

"Stop him," she said to Avery, who watched with arms folded.

Cold eyes met hers. "Why?"

The fangs disappeared, leaving the wounds to the air. To pulse and throb and bleed. "I remember, once upon a time," Spike had lifted his head. Stopped feeding. "You would have kicked my ass clear across the room for sneaking a taste."

His fangs were still out and shined with her blood. "You motherfucking - "

"What? You getting mad at me? Thought you liked it this way. Being pushed around by my lot."

Pushed. He did. Shoved her hard back into the corner of the room. Her head banged against the wall, and she crumpled to the floor. Her first instinct was to put a hand to the bite on her throat. Keep the blood in, even as her bones rattled from the impact.

"Your soul..." she said. Cause the soul meant he couldn't do this stuff, right?

He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head up. Her body arched uncomfortably as he lowered his face to hers. "Obviously not doing as it ought," he said.

With a shove, he slammed her against the wall again. Body battered. The sound of the collision echoed in her bruises.

She could see his boots from where she was on the floor. Looking up stretched the muscles of her neck. Made the bite mark sting. Not worth it. She looked at the boots. Somehow, she was always on boot-level with demons.

"Tell me you wanna kick my ass for this, pet." His voice came from above her.

"I wanna put a stake through your fucking chest for this," she snapped.

Words had barely even left her mouth before she was swept up in his arms. She couldn't find the strength to resist as he carried her out of the room behind Avery. He'd beaten it out of her.

The rooms moved, and Buffy had to close her eyes to keep from throwing up. She felt dizzy, and the unsteady journey from bedroom to lab didn't help.

"Shut up," Spike mumbled under his breath.

She'd been tricked. This whole ploy to try to get her in to that spell. She knew it as Spike dumped her onto the table in the lab. Candles were already placed around it. Not lit. The air smelled heavy with herbs and magic and...fear.

Her fear.

She kicked out, struggling to get up. She'd been beaten into submission and didn't like it. But this alternative...it was... "Spike, I don't want - "

He pushed her back down. "You do. You just don't know it." So curt.

Her mind was still racing. He hadn't taken enough blood to slow her down. "I can't - "

"Yeah. You can."

"No. You're not - "

"Slayer." A growl. "I've known you for near on a decade now. You've rather spectacularly kicked my ass on more than one occasion. You've foiled every Big Bads' plan even before they come up with one sometimes. You are the most aggravating, tenacious, pain in the _ass_ woman that I've ever known in my century plus years of existence. And you _don't_ fucking give up! So stop being Buffy the Weak-Willed Whore and get back to Buffy the Slayer that I fell in love with, okay?"

Love?

His attention wasn't even on her. It was on Avery, who flipped through books and mixing potions.

This was really happening. After five years...she was gonna be the Slayer again.

Being the Slayer was pain. It was loss and death and choices and killing and slaughter and long, grueling hours with little thanks and power...it was power, unrestrained, unmatched, unquestioned. It was being somebody that could be respected...and loved. Which wasn't what she was now.

"Spike." He turned to look at her. He'd gone back into human face, but her blood remained on his lips. She nodded. "Okay."

He almost smiled. "Avery, get to chanting."

"Light that candle. No, that one first! Watch my back, and watch that _thing_ you two have brought in!"

She'd be different soon. Better.

"_Esha retouk sileya. Netari broto sesya!_"

Candles were burning around her head. Like a halo. She could only squint at it. Her eyes hurt. Her body ached. It felt like she'd been sucker-punched and was now struggling to get air. Spike had disappeared from her field of vision, but she could sense him off to the side.

Avery's chanting grew louder, and Buffy felt as if her ribcage were being pried apart. Her muscles tensed and her body contorted, kicking out and knocking over several candles. Buffy screamed.

Then she passed out.

***

_She drowns._

Blood drains and she's left face down in a pool of muddy water. She hadn't even struggled.

But there's someone who's trying to change that. They're bringing her back. They're forcing her to breathe. Forcing her heart to beat again. Since she's dead, she can't even resist it.

So she lives again.

Coughs out the water from her lungs, and she opens her eyes to see who had insisted on her living. Xander.

"Buffy!" he exclaims.

Angel is beside him. Demon with a soul. Something he'd lose later. She remembers that. Remembers the pain to come.

"Buffy," Xander says again. Softer this time.

"Xander?" she asks.

"Welcome back."

Back. Back to life. Back to fighting. She feels stronger. Better. Resolved.

Xander and Angel help her stand. Because she couldn't possibly stand on her own, right?

"The Master?" Buffy asks. The one who had killed her. First of many.

"He's gone up," Angel says. Another one who had killed her. That's what demons always do.

Buffy nods. Her palm rubs against the rough grain wood of the stake in her hand. Still clutched in her hand from when she'd died.

She knows how to be the Slayer again.

There's always a layer of resistance when plunging the stake into a creature's heart. It's the muscle. It's thick. But Buffy lodges the stake in Angel's chest with a satisfying sound. His face is one of surprise in the second before he dusts around her stake. Then he's nothing. More nothing than she used to be.

"Buffy! What did you - " Xander steps back. He's confused. Maybe a little scared. He doesn't need to be. He's not a demon.

"It's okay, Xander," Buffy says. "I'm the Slayer."

***

Buffy breathed first. Then she opened her eyes. She was jittery, but things felt different now than they had before she'd passed out. It was like something crawling up her spine, vertebrae by vertebrae. Underneath that was something else, though. A tempest in her chest.

"Buffy!"

Spike's voice.

Buffy had no time to act. She could only react as the axe entered her field of vision. It hurtled toward her head, but she held her hand up and snatched it by the handle. Just like that. Just like a fly was holding the other end.

She turned her head to get a look at the attacker. A demon. Of course. Fucking demons.

Buffy ripped the axe away from the creature. She sat up while flipping her grip on the weapon and swinging it at the demon's head. The thing had a tough cranium, but the blade chopped cleanly through it. Blood spurted and the body fell.

She looked around her. She was in the magic lab. In the corner, that little bug demon, Jigal, cowered in his restraints. Spike was across the room at the door, holding off another attacker from the lounge. The woman, Avery, was nowhere in sight.

Right. Ugvan's men come to kill Spike. Well, they were fucking with the wrong vampire. Spike was her partner.

It felt like she was watching herself in a movie as she stood and walked to the doorway to the lounge. Spike glanced at her as she stopped beside him to survey the situation. There were three other demons out there. A dead carcass lay across the sofa.

Ugvan had only sent five demons after them? Pity. Buffy was in the killing mood. Fire breathed through her veins, and she knew it was impossible for her to stay in one place. Compelled to move. To act.

One horned demon was fumbling to its feet. Buffy grabbed it by the horn and smashed it face-first against her knee. She tossed it against the wall and sank the axe into its back with a delicious squelching noise.

She sniffed. Behind her she could hear the tell-tale snap of a neck being broken. She turned to see the demon Spike had been fighting crumple to the floor. The other demon, the final one, was fast approaching him with claws at ready.

Buffy removed the axe from the corpse and swung it around in a toss to land squarely in the final demon's back. It fell forward.

Not even a sweat. She wasn't even gasping for air. Her muscles didn't hurt. At all.

She sniffed again. But, fuck, it still felt like bugs were crawling underneath her clothes. The coke was still in her system. Still overwhelming her.

"You're shaking," Spike said from across the room.

Buffy could feel the stickiness on her cheeks from tears she'd shed during and before the ritual. She wiped her nose. The back of her throat hurt. The only consolation was that the bite he'd given her was already healing. "I'm still fucked up," she mumbled.

"You look good," he said. Then he glanced down as if he hadn't meant to say it. When he looked up again he continued, "Looks like you got your strength back."

Magnets. Buffy was pulled to him without even realizing she was closing the distance between them. She just knew she was right in front of him then. Him a demon which made a part of her cry out in disgust. But the rest of her was calmed by his earnest desire to help, even if he would deny any such desire existed. Partners.

When she'd given up, he'd set the goalposts for her. And he kept moving them back. Urging her forward. Keeping her moving. Not letting her fall back. Harsh. Cruel sometimes. Disgusting at others. Demon to the core. But layered with soul. With good intentions.

Just the opposite of her.

He tilted his head at her perusal. She had him off-guard, unsure of what to expect from her. Good.

Buffy placed a hand at the back of his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. He didn't resist. It wasn't a bruising, desperate kiss. Instead, it was a feather-light contact. An exchange of breaths with the tantalizing promise of more. Just a taste.

Then it was over, and Buffy released him. Spike's eyes had gone soft.

"Where's Avery?" Buffy asked.

Spike frowned. "What?"

"Magic lady? Brutally murdered her master? Where'd she go?"

He blinked a few times, obviously trying to get a handle on the subject change. "Uh...she ran off when the fight started. Not wanting to get involved, I suppose."

Buffy nodded. Pressing needs. Couldn't sit around. Couldn't wait. Had to be moving. "But you know where we're going next? What needs to be done to open the portal?"

"Yeah."

"Good." Buffy turned and walked back into the lab. In the corner was the quivering form of Jigal. She approached him and knelt down. She could feel Spike's presence right behind her.

"We still letting him live?" Spike asked.

"He has a soul," Buffy said. Jigal recoiled as Buffy laid a hand on his cool skin. Such a foreign sensation. Demon. Should be killed outright, like the rest.

But some demons had their uses. And this one...this one could be used against his master.

"Thanks for the mess."

Buffy stood while turning. Avery was just entering the lab. She gingerly picked up a shattered vial and sighed. Footsteps crunched through the debris. Buffy's ears rang at every crinkle. Reality was too loud. Like a camera zoomed in too close. She had to try to shake herself out of it. She was the Slayer now. She was in control.

"Where'd you run off to?" Spike asked.

"Hey, I agreed to do the spell. I'm not obligated to fight for you. A gang of thugs come here to get some money out of you, that's your problem."

She had a point.

That's what Buffy hated. Avery had a point. Avery had convictions and goals, and she did whatever it took to get them. She wanted freedom so much, she killed her master to get it. Slaughtered him. Even though he was one of the good ones. It wasn't enough for her.

Buffy had taken it as an affront. A judgment on herself. Because if Avery could free herself, why couldn't Buffy?

It was so petty. And it didn't matter now.

"Avery," Buffy said while stepping forward.

Avery paused in her task of rooting through one of the fallen demon's pockets. She looked up in acknowledgment.

"Thank you," Buffy said. "For the spell. For the help."

The other woman straightened and regarded Buffy with a wary gaze. "It's worth the cost," Avery said. Speaking right to Buffy's thoughts. Avery knew too well.

Buffy thought back to Wyver's brutalized body. The cost of freedom. She nodded. "I hope so."

Hope that it'll be worth it. Facing her family and friends. Getting her powers back. Having to try. To work. To be someone else. Do something other than relent. It had to be worth it. She couldn't have come this far just to falter.

Spike laid a hand on Buffy's elbow. The world seemed steadier. "We need to go, pet."

Buffy looked back at Jigal. "Yeah. Let's go."

***

Avery had disposed of the bodies. All the bodies. Even Wyver's. She'd put it off for a while, but after the trio had left, she knew it was time to clean everything up. One spell to get rid of the corpses. Then a lot of scrubbing to get rid of the gore.

She stood in the doorway to what had once been Wyver's room. It would be hers now. The thought filled her with an empty happiness. Her joy was hollow. She knew what she had told Buffy was true. It _was_ worth it. But still, now, so soon after she'd done the deed...it still hurt to think about.

There was a knock at the door. Avery frowned. She wasn't expecting anybody else. Unless Buffy and Spike had forgotten something.

As soon as Avery opened the front door, she was overwhelmed by demons as they entered the house. They grabbed her by each arm, yanking her roughly back and away from the entrance. She cried out in protest.

Her voice left her, though, as _he_ entered the foyer.

Tall. Monstrously tall. Head mere centimeters from scraping against her ceiling. His aura swept over her, crashing against her senses in a cacophony of pain, menace, and evil.

"So this is the little slave that helped me out so." He looked down at her.

Her mouth was dry, but she knew she couldn't be cowed by this demon. This was the demon who had promised her freedom. He owed her.

"Not a slave," she said, though the words sounded weak in his presence. She jerked against the guards holding her. "We had a deal."

Dehevret leaned down. He was even more frightening close up. Avery resisted every urge to close her eyes. She flinched when his hand touched her cheek. A gentle caress at first, then his nail pierced the skin and clawed a gouge down to her chin.

She struggled, but she had no power. She couldn't even feel her magic with him in the room. Her cheek throbbed in pain.

"We had a deal," she repeated, but she found this time she had tears coming unbidden from her eyes.

"We did." Dehevret nodded. "But I'm not really one to keep my deals, dear." His hand wrapped around her throat. Not to choke, but to intimidate. To command. To own.

"You see," he continued. "I'm in the market for a new slave right now..."

_tbc..._


	9. Nicotine

Spike was out of cigarettes. Bloody tragedy, that was. Unexpected, too. He hadn't even savored the last one. Just smoked it halfway, then tossed it aside as if they grew on trees. And now, trekking through the middle of nowhere to get to some mystical, portal-friendly destination, he had no way of getting any more.

Just one more reason for him to get home.

He'd expected Buffy to look different after the Slayer power-up. Brighter, maybe. Shinier.

Right, that was idiotic. She was still the same Buffy she'd been before. Too skinny. Too pale. Red nose and dark-circled eyes told all about her little addiction. Still such a far cry from the stunning looker she'd been in Sunnydale.

So there was no reason why he should be enjoying the view of her lounging on a rock in the middle of the lake they'd camped out by. Stark naked. Bathing in the lake turned into bathing in the sun. The trees shielded him from the sun's rays, but she lay out in full sunlit glory.

It shouldn't be the most appetizing of sights. Lack of readily available convenience shops meant she was unkempt and ungroomed after their time spent traveling. He was getting a bit shaggy, himself.

And yet, even knowing she wouldn't turn the head of most blokes anymore, he couldn't take his eyes off her. There was power in those bony arms. Maybe it _was_ that she was shinier, what with the strength emanating from every pore. It excited him, far more than anything else had in the past several years.

"You should be sleeping," she called without looking.

He grinned. She'd sensed him.

"Should. But I'm not."

"Why?"

He paused. He didn't want to tell her about the nightmares. "Found something more entertaining here."

Her arm was draped over her face, shielding her eyes from the sun's rays. She remained silent for a moment. "Then you should question Jigal. See what you can get out of him."

Jigal. The demon waiting to be killed. Spike had left him tied up at the campsite. The creature unnerved him. "And you? Is working on your tan more important than interrogating the captive?"

She moaned. "I'm not tanning. I'm just...tired. I was taking a bath, and I just _had_ to rest."

Oh, right. She was finally coming down off her high. Probably for the best considering a coke high didn't mix well with Slayer powers. She'd been near unbearable the first several hours after they'd left Avery's place.

The only downside to that was the big crash she'd have to go through now. She was gonna be a slug for the next few days. Or weeks. Or...he actually wasn't sure how long this might last. Her Slayer powers seemed to mess up her metabolism.

"So?" Buffy called expectantly.

What had they been talking about?

"You gonna talk to Jigal or what?" she asked.

Seeing as she was out in the sun and dusk was still a good hour away, Spike had some time to kill. He nodded before heading back to the camp.

Relying on trees for shade was always risky business for a vampire. He didn't have much choice, though. The underground tunnels didn't extend out to this non-location, and they had to travel another week or so to reach their destination. In the meantime, makeshift shade would have to do. Spike could feel the sunlight peeking through the leaves. It burned him in spots for brief seconds. Not pleasant, but it was tolerable.

Trying to deal with the Yral demon, however, wasn't. The thing made his skin twitch. Demon with a soul. Wasn't natural.

Oh, how his glow laughed at him. No, mocked him. Some days, Spike wished he could rip the bloody thing out and forget about it.

Spike knelt beside the tied captive. "Don't suppose you're gonna talk without some persuasion."

Jigal quivered, rustling the leaves on the ground. Yral demons were bug demons. They had exoskeletons and mandibles that clicked when they were nervous. Like now.

"I...I won't betray my master." The voice was raspy, like claws on chalkboard.

"Thought as much." Spike reached into his boot to fetch his knife. Torturing a Yral demon wasn't difficult. It had one main nerve bundle underneath its exoskeleton at the base of its body. Expose the nerve center and you could have a field day in introducing it to the variety of sensations that pain had to offer.

Spike jabbed the knife into Jigal's crusty exterior shell. Should have thought to gag him first. The hoarse scream was torture to Spike's vampire hearing.

Black demon muck covered the blade as he discarded it. Spike wasn't sure if the sludge was blood. He didn't know if Yral demons _had_ blood. Whatever it was, it smelled like something Dru might've dug out of a dumpster in times past. Foul.

"Now," Spike said. "Why not let us in on Dehevret's plans, yeah?"

"I don't know anything! He didn't tell me _anything_!"

Spike punched the wound with a force that propelled Jigal down into the ground. His screams turned into a wail of pain.

"Funny how I'm _not_ believing that." God, he wanted a cigarette so much right now. Or maybe that was his glow acting up. Hard to tell the difference sometimes.

"It's the truth!"

"All that noise and still no luck?" Spike looked up to see Buffy leaning against a tree. She wore the same clothes she'd been wearing since they'd started this journey. The dip in the lake didn't look to have refreshed her in any way. She looked about to collapse.

He shook his head. "Just started. Thought you were lounging."

"Couldn't with this racket."

Jigal looked hopefully at Buffy. She was oblivious, though. She sat down heavily beside him and watched with a disinterested eye.

"Maybe we should try fire...," she said.

Jigal squirmed. "Okay! Okay! All I...all I know is that something happened five years ago."

"Five years ago?" Spike said. That's when he and Buffy had gotten here.

"What happened?" Buffy asked.

"I don't know. It was...he didn't tell me. It was a plan he had. All I know is that ten human slaves were sent over to your world."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Oh, you're asking for it, mate. What type of nitwit would send ten humans over to the good side? Not exactly a thoroughly evil plan, now is it?"

Buffy placed a hand on his elbow. "Spike, the vampires."

He looked at her in confusion.

Buffy clarified, "The vampires that were doing the ritual. In the cemetery. Remember, the night we got sucked in the portal? We'd come across a group of vampires doing _something_." Buffy leaned closer to Jigal. "These ten human slaves...Dehevret sent them to get vamped, didn't he?"

Jigal nodded.

The pieces were clicking in Spike's head. Buffy continued talking. "It's the only way Dehevret could get his people back and forth. He needed someone with a soul to cross to our world, but they'd need to lose the soul to come back over."

"So they were fetching something, then," Spike finished her thoughts. "And we interrupted them."

"Yeah. Once I crossed over, that gummed up the whole system. Nobody else can pass through the portal until I go back home."

"So that's why Dehevret's so hot to get us back there."

Jigal maintained a high-pitched keening noise. Like background music.

"So," Buffy said. "The question then is what Dehevret sent the humans to fetch from our world?"

"I don't know," Jigal said in a strangled voice.

"Wrong answer," Buffy said. She turned to Spike. "You know, I'm honestly tired of him. Wanna kill him now?"

As if that were an unappealing thought. Spike had been wanting to squash the bug demon since he'd first seen it. 'Bout time Buffy came to her senses.

Spike was reaching for his knife when Jigal spoke up again. "I'm valuable! My master...he'll trade for me."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "No, he won't."

"But I know where the item is! In your world...I could lead you to it."

"Don't care."

"You should. It's powerful. And once you're back through the portal, Dehevret will just try to get it again."

Buffy frowned but she looked to Spike. Spike's fingers itched to killed the thing, but his better sense was telling him that it might still be useful. His better sense didn't always win out, but it was about to in this case.

Spike heard it first. Fast footfalls through the underbrush. He put his hand on Buffy's arm to keep her still before she started torturing Jigal. He smelled a demon. Well, another demon.

Spike stood in one fluid motion and quietly approached the noise.

It was a runner demon. Damned if he could remember the name of them. Delicate, scrawny limbs and long legs. They...they ran. That's what they did.

This one careened to a halt when it saw Spike and the others. It quickly glanced at Jigal before looking back at Spike.

"Don't suppose you have any food?" the demon asked.

****

Spike knew he probably shouldn't be handing out food to random demons passing by, but this demon was outside of its territory for a reason. Might have some information. And they needed all the information they could get right now.

"Thanks. You guys are swell. Name's Cecil. Clan Dao, though that probably means nothing to you. Still, it's a habit to repeat it every damn time I meet someone. Creature of habit, you know?"

Buffy sat a few feet away. She'd gotten quiet once Spike had invited the new arrival to sit down and rest a bit. Spike would say she was pouting, but she still looked far too tired to muster up a good sulk.

"Where you headed, mate?" Spike asked as he fetched some of the old, stale blood from the duffel. Cecil was already gnawing on some of the food they'd gotten from Avery.

"Somewhere that's else, if you know what I mean. Honestly, no clue. I wasn't meaning to go anywhere until I hit Cathela. After that..."

"What happened in Cathela?" God, the blood was rancid. What Spike wouldn't give for something fresh. His eyes wandered back over to the Slayer.

"Better question there would be, 'What _came_ to Cathela?' You ever hear of Dehevret?"

Spike's focus shot back to Cecil. The bony demon kneaded its calf muscles as it ate, completely unaware of the bombshell it had dropped. "Dehevret's men are in Cathela?"

"His men? Got some wax up in your ears, vampire? I said Dehevret. The demon, himself!"

Dehevret never traveled. He directed his affairs from the safety of his own headquarters. If Dehevret were in Cathela...following them...

Cecil continued, "That demon gives me the oogie boogies, if you know what I mean. So once he stormed into town, I hightailed it out of there along with just about everybody else."

"Where's he heading?"

Cecil shrugged. "I didn't ask. It's not like he stopped to hold a press conference. Alls I know is that I heard he was in town and I started running."

Spike ran a hand through his hair. Things were never easy, were they? He had to think. Would this change things? Dehevret still wanted them to get home, right? So they should still be able to get through the portal, no problem. What was the guy after, then? And was it worth their time to bother trying to stop him? Cause if Dehevret were planning something evil in this world…well, Spike couldn't give a fuck. He'd be leaving it soon.

But if Dehevret planned on bringing any chaos to Spike's world, the bastard would get his ass duly handed to him.

Too many questions. All the answers they'd gotten had led to more questions. Just never ended, did it?

"How long ago was this?" Buffy asked, suddenly joining the conversation.

Cecil looked up at her. "Word is that he arrived there yesterday. But he moves slower than me. He's got his entourage, you know. Say, this lump of bread ain't bad for travel rations. You got any more you can spare?"

"'Fraid not, mate," Spike said absently.

He was lost in his own thoughts. He didn't even notice what Buffy was doing until it was done. Once Spike realized what had happened, Cecil's neck was already broken and his body was slumped to the side. Buffy stomped around the camp, gathering supplies.

"We need to leave. Now," she said as if she hadn't casually killed their demon visitor two seconds ago.

Spike bound to his feet. "What the bloody hell did you do that for?"

Buffy paused. "Don't tell me you're forgetting the central theme of being the Slayer: I kill demons."

"Not helpful, harmless demons!"

"Harmless to _you_, maybe, but I saw plenty of his kind in the brothel." She shook her head. "This is part of the Slayer package that _you_ wanted me to sign up for. No refunds or exchanges, you know."

"Funny, I don't recall you being such a bloody-thirsty bitch when you were the Slayer before."

Buffy threw the duffel down and straightened up, hands on hips. "Spike, what's the problem here? Scared I'm gonna try to stake _you_?"

"You mean you're not? Can't imagine I'm exempt from the demon-killing rule you got there."

She looked down. "You're not."

Spike exhaled sharply, wishing again for a cigarette. He closed the distance between them in two quick steps and snatched the duffel away from her.

He waved his hand at the body. "Get rid of that, and then we'll leave. Have to keep a quick pace to stay ahead of Dehevret. Should probably off the captive now, too. He's extra baggage at this point."

Buffy's hands went to her hips, and she wore that stubborn expression he knew so well.

"What?" he questioned.

"Don't act like you're in charge."

"Not acting. Last I checked, I was the guy who started this thing."

"I thought we had a partnership."

Spike nodded. "A partnership where I make the calls. If it had been up to you, we'd be back at the brothel with your precious drugs."

"Fight for it."

"What?"

"You heard me. You want to play Leader, then fight for it. Strength being the determining factor, of course. Winner gets the title."

For five years, Spike had called his own shots. By necessity. Being by oneself required it. Nobody else was going to step in and make the decisions. Figure things out. Tell him what to do.

He'd _enjoyed_ things being like that. For once, he wasn't under anybody's thumb. Not his mother's or Angelus' or Dru's or that damned chip's. Was his own man. Well, his own vampire. Who _wouldn't_ want that sort of freedom? To always be open to choose the next step. Always have the last (and only) word on the "big decisions". Have the sole opinion on what to do. Knowing that it always came down to him. Whatever "it" was: Finding Buffy, rescuing Buffy, finding the way home, figuring out this portal business, getting a soul. One misstep, one wrong calculation, one mistake and the whole thing was ruined. It was all on his shoulders.

Who wouldn't enjoy that?

"What's the game, then?" Spike asked, certain he could best the Slayer. Sure, she'd been powered up, but she was still on a coke drag.

"Arm wrestle." Buffy smiled. "Keep it simple and quick."

Spike raised an eyebrow. "Nothing about this is gonna be quick, luv."

****

Her arm was slender, but her grip was firm.

Spike knew he should be locking eyes with her, but his gaze kept traveling down to the collar of her shirt. Soaking up the wetness from her recently-bathed body, it gaped open, revealing the expanse of skin just above her breasts. Goosebumps appeared with the breeze.

"You're getting distracted," Buffy said.

That drew his eyes back to hers. "Yeah. And yet, I still manage." Spike squeezed her hand.

"For now. But you're gonna get tired, and then those distractions will win out."

"Not _my_ arm that's shaking," he pointed out. It was true. She was still feeling the effects of her withdrawal, and it was hurting her in this game. Spike didn't expect her to hold out much longer.

"Doesn't matter." She opened and reclasped her hand around his, shifting her arm slightly without giving way any. "I'm gonna win. I _should_ win.You have an Achilles heel."

"What's that?"

She leaned closer. The collar of her shirt dipped lower. Her breath teased his lips. "Cause you're in love with me."

Spike's instinct was to recoil, and he had to quickly recover his composure so as to not lose any ground in the arm wrestling that now seemed incidental to the other game going on. Spike swallowed. He'd wondered if she'd noticed his little slip before the empowering spell, but he figured she'd been too out of it. Of course she would mention it _now_.

But he could just as well play that game.

"Past tense, Slayer. I _did_ love you. Barely know who you are anymore." That was true. With the drugs and the fucking and the wanton demon-slaughter, this Buffy was far and away what she'd used to be. Spike's feelings for her had changed. He hadn't decided yet just what they'd changed into, though.

She shook her head. "I know what a demon in love looks like. You think I didn't have plenty of the johns in the brothel fall for me? I also know what a demon looks like when it wants to submit to someone else. And you're looking awfully tired, Spike."

Her palm sweated against his dry hand. She was exerting more effort than she let on. If Spike didn't let her head games get to him, he could outlast her.

Buffy shifted even closer, then, her forehead almost touching his. Her words were whispered just loud enough that a vampire could hear them. "I know you want me to take the reins, Spike. Let me help you."

Wasn't gonna work.

Her lips met his in a crushing kiss. He growled, yet yielded to her forceful advance. His senses screamed at him as he felt everything Buffy. Her mouth, her tongue, her breath, her moans, her teeth, all tantalizing and seducing him with ferocious confidence. This wasn't love; it was sex. She wasn't even touching his supposed Achilles' heel. All she was touching was his desire. More like firmly stroking it while promising a more thorough exploration later. He could let her. He could absolutely let her and still win the game.

He could.

Buffy sucked his lower lip between her teeth, biting down sharply enough to draw blood. She withdrew, and then there was a stillness. Spike opened his eyes to her triumphant gaze. His hand lay palm-up on the rock they'd been using as a surface, her hand on top of it. She'd won.

Spike licked the blood from his lip.

****

His unlife for a cigarette. He craved the nicotine like he'd never craved anything.

Spike watched Buffy's movements around the camp. She gathered the supplies and dragged the body of the runner demon into the lake. She wanted the bloody reins, she could damn well have them. Spike wasn't gonna lift a finger.

The preparations for departure seemed complete, and Buffy approached him with a smile.

"Ready to travel, partner?"

He didn't return the smile. "This little power trip of yours might come back and bite you in the ass, you know?"

She raised her eyebrows.

"Portal needs you just as you were when you came through. If my dreams are right, it's gonna recognize how big a bitch you've become and spit you back out."

The smile remained, but it didn't reach her eyes anymore. "Before we leave, I need you to do something for me." The subject had been changed. Spike rolled his eyes but continued listening. "Kill Jigal. And I'm gonna be watching, so make it...exciting."

_tbc..._


	10. Mind-Fuck

The scissors sliced through her hair with a crisp cutting noise. Buffy tilted her head forward.

"Think we should talk about it?" Spike's voice rumbled as he snipped some more of her hair.

"I said no."

It was too hot for her hair to be so long. Maybe it was careless to stop for a haircut, but Buffy couldn't travel another inch without getting rid of it. The mass of hair weighed at the back of her neck, soaking up sweat and dirt and exacerbating the heat. No, it had to go.

"Not like it's a trifling thing," he said. His fingers were gentle, even as they brushed through tangles.

"I _said_ no."

Her hair collected at her feet.

"Demon of that type can be dangerous."

"Dammit, Spike, I said _no_!"

As Buffy jerked her head, Spike's hand slipped and cut her upper ear. Blood tickled down.

He was silent and still. Buffy figured he was moping or feeling bad about the cut. He did have that guilty soul, after all. She waited for him to keep cutting her hair, but he made no movement.

Finally, she sighed. "It doesn't hurt. Just keep going."

No response.

"Spike, I said keep going." She turned to look at him. A gasp escaped when she saw his demon face. He struck before she could react, sinking fangs into her throat and ripping wildly. Her body fell backward and the impact as she hit the ground jolted her -

***

\- awake.

She breathed in reality, but it took a while to settle. Her hand shook as she raised it to wipe the sweat from her brow. Her hair was sticking to her face.

"You still got an hour," Spike called. He was keeping watch. That's what they had to do now. Short stops to rest, taking turns while the other kept watch. They were so close, but Buffy had never felt farther away from home.

Buffy ripped a thin ribbon from her shirt and used it to gather up her hair into a high ponytail. The end of it barely brushed the back of her neck. It felt cooler.

"I think I'm done sleeping," Buffy said. Without warning, she felt bile rise in her throat. In the next moment, she was huddled over, vomiting up her last meal.

***

_Killing demons had never been like this. Never been so...long._

***

Buffy tripped on a rock. She managed to keep her balance, even though the terrain was precarious. Spike's hand had already grabbed her elbow, though.

She snatched her arm away.

"Just trying to help," Spike said.

"Don't need it," Buffy replied. She pulled her hair over one shoulder, trying to keep the bulk off the back of her neck. It was far too hot for that. Too bad this world didn't seem to have scrunchies.

"I think we're being followed," Spike said. He'd backed off, keeping a distance between them.

"Of course we are."

Demons always followed her.

***

His lips were gentle on hers. They engaged in a leisurely exploration, synced in time with his hands as they wandered her body.

He was in his vampire face. She traced his fangs with her tongue. So soft. No blood was drawn.

He moved his mouth to her ear and whispered, "I love you."

She arched her head back, exposing the curve of her neck as he entered her. His hands hooked under either thigh. His upper body raised enough to gaze down at her as she watched him.

With a thrust, she cried out in pleasure.

With another, she crept her own hands up his chest. She couldn't keep them still.

Another thrust. His yellow eyes half-closed.

And another. She closed her eyes, turning her head to the side.

Another. She opened her eyes when he grabbed her by the hair. His body was right on top of hers. His feral face nose-to-nose with her. There was blood on his fangs now.

"You're a very stupid girl," he said.

Fangs thrust in her throat.

***

_The shell cracked like a whip or like lightning or a firecracker. Yeah. Like a firecracker with the cinders raining down on her. They burned._

***

The fire cracked as it danced in front of her. Buffy couldn't remember when he'd made the fire. Her head was frozen thick as ice.

"You need to eat," Spike sat down next to her while handing her a piece of bread. His skin was scalding.

Buffy frowned. "Where are we?"

"Close now. Eat."

She held the bread but didn't eat. "Things don't make sense. Something happened..."

"Not something you need to worry about now. I'll deal with it."

She shook her head. "I'm the leader, right? We decided - "

"And when the leader's out of commission, which you are, I take the reins. Way it is."

He was drinking some of the stale, congealed blood they had brought with them. He grimaced after each swallow.

"Would you rather have my blood?" she asked without thinking. She remembered him drinking her blood once.

He gave her a look like she was out of her mind. "Right now? Wouldn't drink your blood if you _paid_ me."

Buffy squeezed the bread into a tightly compacted lump, then let it fall to the ground. Her stomach flipped. She felt like her insides were doing cartwheels.

This time when she threw up, Spike held her hair away from her face and off her neck. He waited till she was done. She waited for the bite.

***

_Fire had seemed like a good idea at the time..._

***

It didn't come. The bite. Instead, Spike helped her lay back. He brushed the sweaty hair off her face.

She closed her eyes to rest.

***

_Even though she had requested that Spike do the deed, she found herself eager to participate. She wanted to be elbow-deep in demon blood and guts and whatever else came inside the crusty exterior. Spike eventually stepped back to let her take over. It's what she had wanted._

_Then the sting._

***

"Bloody annoying, is what it is."

Spike spoke. She kept her eyes closed. He thought she was asleep.

The fire sparked, and Buffy knew that Spike had thrown a stick into it.

"You keep going and going and for five years going. I'm tired of going." He was silent for a long time. Buffy worried that she _had_ fallen asleep. Then he spoke again, "Don't wanna tend to you anymore, Slayer. You're better when you're yanking my chain around. Means _I_ can rest for a while." He chuckled. "Been by myself for five years up till now. Discovered that I'm shit for company. That's why I need _you_."

Buffy attempted to keep the expression on her face neutral. The sudden sound of boot on rock alerted her to the fact that Spike was now pacing the cave.

"Problem is, _you_ keep steering me in any which direction! Nagging at me for inane things...that _she's_ alright with! She's human! Got her soul and everything, but you panic when she tries her hand at a bit of torture? Just not fucking reasonable, yelling at me with your fucking arbitrary morality. Tell you what, Slayer's got the right idea. Bit brutal, but needs to be in this fuckhole of a world."

Buffy had known he mumbled to himself. She'd never been able to tell what he was saying, though.

"When we get back to our proper world, you're gonna go. Don't fit right here, and I won't need you anymore. Got the Slayer, don't I? She'll let me know what the lines are."

Buffy felt sick again.

***

It was raining now, but she knew it had been for a while.

Water dripped down her hair, coating her skin.

"Quite a deluge, innit, Slayer?" Spike was beside her, but that was new.

She didn't know how she'd come to the position of pushing a wooden stake up against Spike's chest. Maybe she'd always been doing that.

"You're not gonna do it," Spike told her. His body was relaxed.

"Why do you say that?" Buffy asked.

"Cause I'm the most dangerous demon out there."

Buffy shoved the stake through his heart. His dust mixed with the rain.

***

"What time is it?" Buffy rolled over, aware of the mass of sweaty tangles surrounding her head. That damn hair.

"Day," Spike said casually. "Keep resting."

Buffy exhaled an annoyed breath and tried to gather her hair away from the back of her neck. Again. Spike didn't even glance at her.

"Have you seen him?"

Spike shook his head.

Her fault, of course.

After a few idle minutes, Buffy spoke. "There's a spot...on the back of the neck. I don't know if it's a Slayer thing or a Buffy thing. Maybe both. But it tingles when a demon's around, you know? Maybe vampires have something like it but for Slayers. I don't know." She laughed. "I don't know much."

Spike remained silent. Maybe he wasn't listening to her.

She continued. "I still felt it even when they sealed my powers. At first it bothered me. I think the coke kinda helped get rid of it. Or I just didn't notice the nerves on the back of my neck dancing like crazy.

"So I've been noticing it again now. I don't know what to do about it. Almost everywhere we go there are demons. _You're_ a demon. I can't get away from it. It sometimes feels like that spot is my - what do they call it? Achilles Heel? Like it's my most vulnerable spot. If the demons only knew that..."

Buffy shook her head. She'd gotten away from her point. Did she even have a point? She remembered Spike's conversation with himself. That was the point.

She looked back at him. "I can't be your soul, Spike."

Spike's gaze met hers.

***

_"Let me see."_

_His hands covered hers, but she held firm, hunched over and trying to keep the scream in. "Spike, he's getting away!"_

_"Move your bloody hands so I can take a look!"_

_Bloody hands. Very right. Her hands were covered in black muck. Demon blood._

_Spike grabbed her by the back of the neck, sinking fingers into her hair. He yanked hard, pulling her body up and exposing the wound on her abdomen. Buffy yelped._

_"Just let me help you, you stupid bint!"_

***

Maybe she's not the one who needed help.

"Don't need any soul, much less you acting as one." Spike said.

Defensive, tough act. She was very familiar with that. She stood on shaky legs and started walking towards him.

"You shouldn't be up," he said calmly as he remained where he was.

"I shouldn't be doing a lot of things." Her movement cooled the sweat against her skin, almost like a breeze. It felt good. When she reached Spike, she grabbed his arms to steady herself. He still hadn't moved. "This is usually where you bite me," she said.

"You're off your nut."

"No. I just think I love you."

The back of her neck wasn't tingling.

***

Buffy's eyes were fuzzy like they'd been closed for far, far too long.

"Finally." Spike came marching towards her and laid a cool hand on her forehead. "Fever's just about gone. Wish we could afford some recovery time for you, but - "

"Dehevret?" Buffy's voice was scratchy with disuse.

Spike nodded. "How're your muscles? You up for the walk?"

Buffy stretched. She was sore with that feeling of malaise that comes after an illness. But she'd be able to work through it.

"Hey," she said while standing. "I didn't say or do anything embarrassing, did I? I think I was pretty out of it."

Spike had turned his attention away from her. Instead, he was packing everything back into the duffel. "You slept most of the time. Nothing interesting." He straightened up. "Ready?"

Buffy knew he was lying, but she decided to ignore it. She probably didn't want to know anyway.

_tbc..._


	11. Portal

_Two years ago..._

Ugvan scooped ice into his glass before pouring the scotch.

"No drink?"

"Would rather get to business." Spike didn't like the place. The atmosphere set him on edge. Dark, velvet colors with ornate, old lady-style furniture and ornaments. Knick-knacks on top of knick-knacks. Good thing he didn't breathe. He'd probably start a domino effect and leave the room all tottered like a tornado riding a drunk bull had careened through.

"I like a demon that gets straight to business." Ugvan pointed at him with his cigar. There was no indication as to Ugvan's being a demon. He looked like nothing else but a portly, mustachioed human. Spike knew better, though. This bloke, kitschy or not, had power.

"You know why I'm here."

Ugvan groaned as he sat in a patterned armchair that creaked beneath him. Ugvan propped his legs up on a matching ottoman. "Pretend I don't."

Spike rolled his eyes. "I want my soul, you bleeding wanker."

"Oh, you'd like it if I were bleeding, wouldn't you?" Ugvan smiled. "Demon wanting his soul? Not a normal request."

"S'pose not. You can do it, though." It wasn't a question. Spike had spoken to a demon who'd gotten his soul back thanks to the bloke. Not like Spike would waste his time if he weren't certain.

Ugvan twisted one of his garishly large rings. "Why's it important to you?"

Spike snorted. "Let's talk about why it's important to _you_, mate." He drew his pouch. "I can pay."

The demon's fingers tapped a staccato on his glass. "Straight to the money, huh? Sit down."

"Prefer to stand."

"_Sit_." Ugvan motioned with a finger, and Spike's back snapped into the loveseat behind him. "You're here for your soul, no easy feat. You know this because you've looked high and low for some way to get your soul back, and all paths lead you to me." A spindly tongue snaked out to extinguish Ugvan's cigar with a hiss. The demon cooed at the burn.

"Now," he continued with a toe-curling lip smacking. "I don't know why a demon would want his soul back. It's an abomination, if you ask me, but I've had a few individuals over the years ask me. You're not as special as you think you are, and you aren't some rugged lone hero who can push his weight around on a whim." Ugvan leaned forward. "You're _nothing_. You are a pest of a demon begging me to cut his dick off. Why not try showing a proper amount of reverence and see where it gets you if you're gonna ask me to stick a soul in you?"

Spike glared. His body remained still. Not because of Ugvan's power. That spell had worn off as soon as it had been cast. Instead, he was frozen by the knowledge that Ugvan was right. There was no other way to get his soul back, and the soul was essential for getting home.

Swallowing his pride, Spike tried for sincere. "I'm sorry...sir."

Alright, so he couldn't completely keep the sarcasm out of the "sir". Fortunately for him, Ugvan laughed and sat back.

"Well, then. Strip your clothes off and get in the tub." He gestured to a room divider with crocodiles painted on it.

"Why am I getting naked?"

Ugvan had already begun scrounging through a deep drawer. "The water needs contact with bare skin. Conductivity and all that. Oh, it's gonna sting a bit. Singeing a soul into a demon isn't like slipping a dick into a pussy or anything. More like jamming your rod up a nostril."

"Lovely visual." Spike yanked his shirt over his head and unbuckled his belt. "How much will this cost me?"

With his arms full of jars, Ugvan nodded at Spike's pouch. "I'll take it all, thank you. Just leave it on the sofa."

Spike scowled but did so. He'd expected that, but it still smarted.

Once he'd kicked his pants off, he moved to the corner of the room where a tub full of murky water sat.

"Looks like someone shit in there," Spike commented.

"Someone may have. But the magic soup's still good, don't worry."

"Not what I was worried about," Spike muttered. Not having many options, he swung a leg over and climbed in.

****

_Now_

Buffy's arm muscles were strained as she held them stiffly at her side. Not as powerful as they once were. Spike remembered those muscles from years past. She had such skinny arms, but wiry muscles were strapped to the bone. Hard and strong.

Now, disuse and her recent bout of poison had sapped their vigor. Shame, that.

Buffy held the map now, of course. Led the way. Spike found himself behind her, a position that was immediately familiar and comfortable. Instead of worrying about rituals and plans, he could watch the jagged sway of her hips as she walked. Her jeans were baggy, revealing nothing of her ass. Instead, he just saw the sag of denim hanging above her thighs. Every now and then, she'd reach a hand down to yank the waist up.

First thing on the other side would be to get her a meal.

His hourly perusal of Buffy was startled by a change in scenery.

The thick of the broad forest surrounded a clearing. The covering of grass tapered off until bare brown soil resided at the center. This was where the portal would appear. Only thing needed now was an X marking the bloody spot.

The sun sat high in the sky at their arrival. Its light prevented Spike from leaving the safe darkness of the forest.

"Here we are." Buffy threw down the duffel. "We just have to do the ritual now." She walked into the sunlight, leaving Spike behind her. "Speaking of which, what _is_ the ritual?"

"Think it involves some chanting. Maybe some body-paint." His leer was only halfhearted, weighed down as he was by his anxiety. He'd been purposely pushing the spell out of his mind.

She didn't rise to the bait anyway. "It's gotta be more than _chanting_. Otherwise everybody would do it."

Spike fetched the Book of Langlar from their bag. Tucked between its pages was Avery's translation of the ritual. He skimmed it with raised eyebrows.

"We need a sacrifice," he said in a clipped tone.

"Human?"

"Animal will do."

Buffy kicked some dirt. "What else?"

Spike sat down against one of the trees. "Ah. Ska pastora."

Buffy crinkled her nose and sat down across from him. "What?"

"Salvia. It's a psychedelic. The ritual uses shaman magic. Well, the nicer bits of it. There's also a lot of blood and dark chanting and all."

"A psychedelic. That's a drug," Buffy said.

Spike looked up at her. When had Buffy's face gotten so expressive? It hadn't been on the other side. Now, though, all her worries and fears were etched across her features - the firmness of her mouth, the crinkle at her brow, the soft lines at her nose.

"Not like your type of drug. Not addictive. Just a mind trip."

She pushed her hair behind her ears. "Yeah, cause I haven't had enough of _those_ lately."

"It'll be okay, Buffy. I'll be right there with you."

She didn't respond.

"You really in love with me?" he asked. He wasn't sure why he asked it, though once he did he found he wanted more than anything to hear the answer. He fought to keep from leaning in towards her.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She was lying. Her heartbeat was speeding faster and a blush had appeared on her cheeks. He could tell she was lying.

"Just thinking it may be better for us to be honest with each other," he said. "Rather than all the deflecting and bullshit. Not that I haven't done my fair share, myself. But we're about to go home, pet." He tried to meet her eyes, but she stubbornly focused on the ground in front of her. "What are we gonna do then?"

Buffy's words came slowly. "So you used to be in love with me?"

Course. She would turn the whole thing around on him, wouldn't she?

Well, she'd asked.

"You were glorious, you know," Spike said. He stood and turned away from her. Easier if he didn't have to see what she was now. "Didn't want it to happen. Wanted to kill you. Couldn't help myself, though. You sneaked into my heart and burrowed a spot. Couldn't close my eyes without seeing you." He closed his eyes and smiled.

He turned when Buffy made a noise, somewhere between a sigh and a sniff. He met her eyes. "I was ready to give it all up for you. The being evil thing." The glow laughed at him. "Hell, I was gonna try my best to be someone you could love."

"My window," Buffy said.

Spike frowned. "What's that?"

"You used to stand outside my window, smoking." She looked down at her shoes, old and falling apart though they were. She picked at the tattered sole of one of them. "I didn't think much of it then. I didn't think much about _you_ at all."

He nodded. "Yeah, I did that." He blinked and shrugged. "Stole some of your panties, too. Your Muscular Mama's Boy caught me out on that. He cottoned on to the whole thing. Helped drive him nearly round the bend."

"Riley?"

Spike tilted his head and considered her. "I don't feel that anymore."

Buffy's expression turned blank. She didn't respond, so Spike continued.

"That infatuation." He laughed. "Christ, I had a bleedin' _shrine_ to you! Worshiped you. Or at least, I wanted to." He shook his head. "Wouldn't worship _you_."

Buffy crossed her arms. "Yeah. Can't imagine many people would."

He didn't know why it was important for her to know this, but it was. "I don't love you now," he said.

"Right." She squeezed her shoulders. "I'm cold."

Spike shrugged his jacket off and tossed it to her.

"Right," he said as she put his jacket on. Time for business. "I'll go get us a deer or something for the ritual." He handed her the instructions. "You can read up on what else is required, okay?"

She didn't speak as she took the book from him.

****

_Two years ago..._

The smell was unbelievable. A mix of magic, shit, blood, and spices. Spike was sure the water was gonna stain his skin permanently. Leave him a mottled shit color to go with his tarnished soul. Would be appropriate, he supposed.

His knees rose from the tub, and he tapped his finger on the side. Tiny ripples in the water bellowed at the vibration.

"Can we get on with this?" he asked.

Ugvan had donned a pair of tiny spectacles and was flipping through books, bending the spines back to mark his place in one before going to another. He laid them all out in front of him like bingo cards.

"Don't think you want to rush through this," Ugvan said. "Wrong word could turn you inside out. Or make you into a zombie."

Spike rolled his eyes.

"Don't blame me. Not like I get asked to restore a soul very often."

"Right," Spike's eyes narrowed. "There's not gonna be any perfect moment of happiness clauses in this thing, right?"

Ugvan looked up, confused. "A what clause?"

"Never mind." Obviously not.

"Okay," Ugvan said with finality. "Let's get this started."

Then with a few foreign words, Spike felt his chest split open. He bit his tongue hard enough to bleed and his body tensed and shook. He gripped the sides of the tub.

He lost his senses. Well, all but the pain. No sound. No sight. No smell. Only the gaping hole in his chest, empty and gathering cobwebs for a century, being pried open, the sides parted in anticipation of reunion of body and soul.

Anticipation. The itchy adrenaline rush of expectation. His body poised for the final joining, readying to welcome the creaky old soul that he'd given up so long ago.

It didn't come. His body thrashed in panic. No soul. No soul. It had been waiting, but there was no soul. The house was prepared, fine china out and everything, but there was no soul. No soul. No soul. No soul.

Then something else. Rectangle in a circle rasped its way into his body, jagged edges catching at his flesh, his heart, his being. Conflicting consciousnesses gripped his mind and his body rioted, thrashing violently to eject the stranger.

He never stopped thrashing.

****

They began the ritual as soon as dusk fell.

While Spike had been hunting, Buffy had prepared the fire at the center of the clearing, right where the portal was to appear.

"In presence, in essence, to convey to the other side. All Honorable Cocijo, grant us access to your transport." They chanted in unison, repeating the same two sentences, each sitting on opposite sides of the fire.

With deliberate movement, Spike slashed his knife across his palm, releasing welts of blood. He turned his hand palm downward over the fire, letting the blood drip. When he handed the knife to Buffy, she did the same.

"All Honorable Cocijo, grant us access to your transport."

More blood to come. Spike took up the deer skull, now full of the beast's own blood. With a curt nod to the fire, he bowed his head and drank half of the vessel. Buffy grimaced when he handed it to her. At his raised eyebrow, though, she threw her head back and drank the rest.

"In presence, in essence, to convey to the other side."

Buffy put two fingers into the skull and then stroked them down her forehead, painting a line down the vertical of her face. With her thumb, she added horizontal marks on her cheek. Despite herself, her tongue flicked out to catch the blood on her lips.

When she passed the skull back to him, he did the same.

"All Honorable Cocijo, grant us access to your transport."

Spike grabbed the bag of Salvia leaves Avery had provided for them. They had been rolled into tightly compact balls. Spike put one in his mouth, chewing the leaf without swallowing. He passed the other quid to Buffy. She hesitated only a moment before putting it in her mouth.

The taste was bitter but Spike held it under his tongue. He grimaced as he continued the chanting. He dug into the dirt beside him, creating a furrow with his fingers. He arced his arm around toward Buffy, who was doing the same on her side. Where their hands met, a half circle was created around them. He extended his other arm to finish the circle.

His fingers bled into the night sky as his blood dripped into the furrows.

He knew it was starting, the trip, but he lost himself in it quickly.

THIS IS IMPORTANT

This was a memorytruth as the earth and his life opened in front of him. The porcelain bathtub rubbed against his face and he merged with it. The tub contained him contained the truth.

A screen of a time before.

The soul. A soul stuffed in him and dyed the murky water red. Color leeched into his skin.

"What happened?" His voice echoed a thousand times, each reverberation opening up a new dimension.

"Wasn't out there."

"What wasn't?"

"Your soul."

Fast forward. Squeaky voices and Spike laughed as he and Ugvan turned into cartoon characters. They danced as the tape wound. Stop there.

Hand stuck to forehead. "So what'd you put in me?"

"A soul, like you asked. Closest I could find. May not be _yours_, but it'll give you the guilt you're looking for."

Guilt walked in with a cowbell round its thick neck. It punched him in the gut, but its fist got stuck.

Ugvan's buzz became a voice. "Gonna have to charge more for that spell. Don't like having to improvise."

"I gave you all my money."

"Then you'll owe me more. Don't worry. I'll keep up with you."

Lightning flashed behind him as he spoke, and he lowered his face to give a devilish grin to the camera to Spike.

Not in the tub then. On the floor, clutching his unraveling guts as they slinkied out of his belly.

Ugvan snorted as he shook his head. "Demon asking for a soul. Pathetic." He walked away. "Have fun being fangless."

Spike's fangs left him and tumbled to the ground into the air. They grew larger and expanded to fill the plane.

The hollow plane. Nothingness forever.

And then,

**BUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFYBUFFY**

It was all Buffy. Everything. The universe was made up of tiny molecules of Buffy and him with his fingers and dick deep inside her center, pouring life and strength and partnership into the vibrant atmosphere but it wasn't enough never enough he needed more deeper deeper deeper into the buffy and the Buffy.

Why did everything always come back to her?

Buffy smiling. Buffy frowning. Buffy laughing. Buffy staking a vampire. Buffy riding his dick. Buffy sniffing and rubbing that coke-infested nose of hers. Buffy looking annoyed at him. Scared of him. Scared for him. In love with him. With him. With him. At some point, his universe of one had become a universe of two and Spike didn't have a word to say against it because it was Buffy. It was always Buffy. Never anything but.

The world zoomed around him, shocking his consciousness. The trip, it was fading, folding, tucking itself away into a dark part inside him.

Spike's eyes focused on the portal. It glowed golden, spattering sparks of magic as it convalesced in the air.

The way home.

Somebody kicked him in the stomach, wrenching him from his awe. Spike still felt the lethargy of the Salvia, and he struggled to see who was attacking him.

A hand gripped his hair, forcing his face up.

"It's them!" A voice called.

Spike grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it up at his attacker. As soon as he heard the panicked snarl, Spike rolled out of his grip and stood on shaky legs. The left side of his body felt weighted, and he almost stumbled into the dying fire. Looking behind him, a regiment of troops bearing Dehevret's colors were entering the clearing.

When something grabbed his hand, Spike whirled around to strike at it. He managed to stop his momentum when he saw Buffy, blood smeared on her face.

"Spike, come on!" she said, obviously more clear-headed than he was.

"Buffy," he said, his voice full of awe. She was magnificent.

He shook himself out of it. Not the time.

"You first," he said, wary of his dreams becoming reality. He wanted to _make sure_ that she'd make it.

He saw Buffy jump, her form vanishing through the dimensional rip.

She was gone.

It had worked.

With one last look over his shoulder, Spike grinned before turning to the portal. He jumped, closing his eyes and bracing himself for the trip.

Instead of going forward, though, his body rebounded with a loud cracking noise. He fell on his back, yards away from the portal. His limbs shook in shock at the expulsion.

Spike propped himself up on an unsteady elbow, staring in incredulity at the portal as it began to flicker.

No. No, this wasn't happening.

He forced his body back to standing, willing his legs to a run as he tried again. He flung himself at the portal, then roared as it kicked him back. He landed in the same place as he had before.

Spike growled. Around him, a hum of laughter erupted as the portal vanished.

Spike didn't care. They could laugh at him. They could kill him. Five bloody years had resulted in nothing. He stared down at the ground, panting heavily.

Heavy footsteps behind him approached with an even pace. As the steps stopped beside him, Spike felt a compulsion to look up, though he knew already what he'd see.

Dehevret stared down at him with narrowed eyes. "You were expecting something else, vampire?"

_tbc..._


	12. Home

 All Buffy felt was hard ground as she tumbled from the portal. The world spun like an out of control ferris wheel, and she had no time to recover before hands grabbed at her. A fist punched her in the face, knocking her back down.

A vampire. One of the ones she'd interrupted five years ago. No. Seconds ago.

Necessity forced her to shove down the post-portal nausea. Buffy rolled to standing, arms up and prepared to fight. She had no stake on her - a lazy oversight on her part - but that didn't matter. Facing her was a male vampire with his bumpies out, blood crusted around its face. He snarled at her, then lunged.

Buffy dodged to the right and rolled to grab a fallen branch. Something collided with her, preventing her from grabbing the weapon. She faltered. The vampire leaped on her, fangs brandished and at her throat. She shoved him up with her arms and placed a foot to his crotch.

Whatever had impeded her path was gone now. Buffy snatched the branch and jabbed it into the vampire's chest. It vanished.

Buffy turned back to the portal in time to see it fizzle out with a satisfying snap and crackle.

That wasn't right. Spike wasn't...

Buffy dropped the branch. He hadn't made it over. She was home, but Spike was still on the other side.

With a groan, she clutched at her stomach, fighting an ache low in her gut. She sniffed and willed the tears to go away. She'd get him back. New mission. He may hate her. May be repulsed by her. But he wanted home, and she'd do that much for him. 

_"You really in love with me?"_

At first Buffy stood in the middle of the cemetery, unsure of what to do. Where to go. Home? That was a scary thought. The school library? No, she'd blown that up. The magic shop? Undoubtedly closed.

Giles' apartment was tempting, but something nudged her towards her house. Despite the fear she felt at the thought, her legs started walking the never forgotten path toward Revello Drive. She could traverse this route with her eyes closed, so many endless nights spent in the company of the graves. 

Buffy reached a hand out to brush against the maple tree on her right. She had a memory of staking a vampire against it once upon a time. The bigger tree up ahead, she'd made out with Angel underneath it back in high school.

She drank down the remembrance, letting it warm her. It soothed her fear. She had a history here. A past she could touch. So maybe it had been interrupted for a few years. It remained, the imprint of the life she'd known. She could still fit.

The calm repose she'd lapsed into withered as she reached the front porch. Of course she couldn't fit here anymore. 

The front door faced her, and it was one enemy she felt like backing away from. She didn't know if she could do this. Not without Spike to shove her along.

Her home, the memories of her life, they all existed in some faraway portrait frozen in time as if in amber. It was safe. Now, though, entering the house, seeing her family, would change things. That gauzy painting of a happier life would be forever affected, maybe not for the better. Why not keep things as they were? 

She tugged Spike's jacket more tightly around her. The front door remained impassive, unmoved by her indecision. 

No. She knew if there was one thing Spike would want her to do, it would be to reunite with her mother. He'd insist on it. She had to do this. She _could_ do this.

Taking advantage of her moment of resolve, Buffy pushed the door open and stepped inside. 

She held her breath as if afraid of bursting the bubble of peace and familiarity that surrounded her in the entryway. The mechanical sounds of an adding machine emanated from the dining room. The rest of the house was silent. Buffy imagined her mother in the dining room, working on finances for the gallery. She'd be leaning forward, biting on the end of the pencil, papers strewn about the table.

While Joyce had been trying to balance the budget for her gallery, Buffy had been fucking demons.

Buffy took a step backward. She _couldn't_ do this. Warning sirens exploded in her head, and the only conscious thought Buffy could manage was to get out.

"Back so ear - dear lord!"

Buffy turned to the living room. Giles stood at the doorway, staring at her in shock. Why was Giles here?

"Glory?" He took a step toward her.

Buffy backed away. Glory. Right. That hellgod that had been after Dawn five years ago - now. Giles had been staying with her mother and Dawn while she slayed. Buffy shook her head, not sure how to explain everything to him.

"Buffy, what happened?" Her mother had come to the entryway. She had that same look of shock and worry that Giles had. 

Buffy hadn't seen her mother in five years. She hadn't changed, not a bit. She wouldn't have, would she? She tried to think of how to explain where she'd been, what she'd been doing. Nothing came to mind. The only thing Buffy could process was the look of concern on her mother's face. That was a look she hadn't seen in so long. She'd missed it. She'd missed having someone be concerned about her. Caring about her. Loving her. Unconditionally. Whatever the world threw at her, however many demons she had to service...she'd missed that look. That look meant that at least one person gave a damn about her.

Her mother still gave a damn about her.

She'd forgotten. And remembering knocked her heart around, collapsing her stomach and taking away the strength in her legs.

While one moment found her mother reaching an arm to touch her elbow, the next found Buffy clutching at her mother and crying into the crook of her neck. When her legs gave out, she pulled Joyce to the floor with her.

Her mother smelled like warmth and comfort, untainted by hardship. However confused her mother must have been, she stroked Buffy's back and held her.

After a few moments, Buffy sensed Giles kneeling next to her.

"Buffy, what happened tonight?" 

With some effort, Buffy pulled away to look at him. She shook her head. "Not tonight," she said. "Five years."

She allowed herself to be taken care of at that point. Buffy was content to let herself be coddled and herded, placed in the living room while Giles and her mother moved around her. She was home. She was allowed to stay still now. At least for a little while.

Buffy wrapped her hands around the warm mug that appeared before her. She willed her arms to stop shaking. As she perched at the edge of the couch, she listened as her mother tried to convince Dawn to go back to sleep.

"But what's wrong with Buffy?"

"Never mind, Dawn. We're taking care of it."

Across from Buffy sat Giles, watching her with that steady gaze of concern. Never wavering.

Her hands tightened around the mug when she remembered Spike. She couldn't be stationary right now. Spike needed her. Time was now synced between the two worlds and every second spent over here was a second that Spike was trapped over there. 

What were they expecting from her? Did they want the whole story? All five years' worth of...stuff? 

When Buffy wiped tears from her face, her hand came back stained pale red. She'd forgotten about the blood from the ritual. No wonder she'd caused a near-panic with her appearance.

She sniffed and rubbed at her nose. Having successfully sent Dawn back to bed, Joyce came to sit next to her. 

The older adults exchanged a glance, communicating silently, and Giles began, "Buffy, what happened?"

Buffy stared into the cup of tea as if it were a lifeline. She couldn't bring herself to meet their eyes. "There's a portal. To another dimension. Spike and I fell through it and, well...god, this is complicated!" She closed her eyes. Keep to the basics. They didn't need to know details. "Spike and I have spent the past five years in an alternate dimension. We finally made it back, but Spike's trapped on the other side. I don't know why. The portal's weird. I guess...I guess it didn't let him through."

Buffy flinched when Joyce put a hand on her knee. 

"Tell me more about this alternate dimension," Giles said.

After taking a deep breath of preparation, Buffy unleashed the story of the other world - there was no Slayer, it was ruled by demons, the portal required a soul to get through to this world, and Buffy, herself, acted as the cork. She didn't go into details about her life over there. No word on the drugs, the prostitution, or her and Spike's mercurial relationship. They didn't need to know that. Maybe nobody did.

When she was finished, Giles leaned back with a worried look on his face. Her mother was gripping her hand tightly. Buffy felt as if she were before an inquisition. She found herself holding her breath as she waited for someone to speak.

"Why...wasn't Spike able to come through the portal again?" Giles asked.

"I don't know. But I have to get him back. You'll help?"

Giles cleared his throat, "Well, loathe as I am to go out of my way for Spike, I'm concerned about this Dehevret and what his plans may be. By what you tell us, you coming home through the portal is just what he wanted. I can't help but fear this may be a danger to our world."

"So you'll help?" 

Giles nodded. "Yes, though, uh, I imagine you're tired." He looked to Joyce.

"Honey, why don't you go up and shower and sleep? Mr. Giles can start researching and tomorrow you can meet with the others to figure out a plan," her mother said.

Buffy cringed at the thought of seeing her friends but now wasn't the time to protest that. She nodded, feeling the exhausting weight of her long journey.

The two adults remained silent and expectant while Buffy stood and retreated up the stairs. It was only when she had closed the bathroom door behind her that she heard the murmur of voices from downstairs.

She ignored them. 

Buffy peeled off her clothes and turned the hot water on, adding a small twist to the cold water faucet. She remembered the particular configuration of this shower as if on instinct.

As soon as the hot water began to steam, Buffy stepped inside.

The water hit her with the force of a tidal wave. How long had it been since she'd had the luxury of a shower? Well, she'd bathed in a lake while they were traveling. That didn't even come close to the ecstasy of clean, hot water pouring down her body. 

She splashed it over her face, letting the dried deer blood bleed away. Her fingers couldn't get through her hair for the tangles. 

Rubbing the shampoo and conditioner through her hair was so unfamiliar as to be a foreign experience. At the brothel, she'd had oils that she used in her hair, but they didn't lather like this. She held the shampoo in her palm and squeezed it between her fingers. Sticky. White. Like cum.

She closed her eyes. No. She wasn't that girl. Not here. Not with her baby sister one room away.

Once she'd washed herself twice over, she stared at the razor. Her legs were furry with light blonde hair and her armpits were overgrown. Time was she wouldn't be caught dead like that. Now, though, it had only been an unavoidable inconvenience.

She didn't know if she wanted to take the time to do her legs. She was already feeling tired. She ran the razor over her armpits, though. She'd need to get back into her proper grooming habits.

After this was finished, she remained in the shower. She was tired, but she felt a warm safety beneath the water. Her body was finally clean as it hadn't been able to be on the other side. She ran her hands down her stomach. Could her mother tell what she'd been doing over there? Buffy felt like it was written all over her. They hadn't said anything, though.

_"I don't love you now."_

When Buffy wiped her nose, she accidentally inhaled a handful of water. She sputtered and coughed.

The pounding water of the shower succeeded in eking out the last of the tension in her muscles. Buffy allowed the lethargy of her exertions take over. Twisting the water knobs, Buffy emerged from the shower. 

Her mom had laid out some pajamas on her bed. Buffy took little time to slip into them and burrow herself under the covers for a much-needed rest.

Sleep came easier for her than she thought it would. She hadn't had the luxury of an actual bed since their stay at Avery's. Days of travel on the road had conditioned her to sleeping on the hard earth. Given the opportunity to partake of an actual mattress and pillow, though...

Well, she'd been out like a light as soon as her feet left the floor.

She dreamed that her vagina was a loose bag that drooped to her knees. It dragged along the concrete road she ran down.

She awoke some hours later, aware of a presence watching her. Light streamed through the blinds on the window. When she looked up, she saw Dawn peering in through the now-open door, watching her.

Buffy sat up. Her hair frizzed around her. She'd slept on it while it was still wet. That was never a good thing, no matter what dimension she was in.

"Don't you have school?" Buffy asked, uncomfortable with the scrutiny of Dawn's stare.

"It's Saturday."

"Oh." Yeah, like Buffy could remember what day she'd left.

"What happened?"

Buffy tensed. How much had her mother told Dawn? Had Dawn figured out all the details their mom hadn't been privy to? 

"Slayer stuff," Buffy said shortly.

Dawn subtly recoiled, a growing distance in her expression. She crossed her arms. "Everybody's making a big fuss. Is it Glory?"

"Glory?" Buffy shook her head. "Dawn, no. It's nothing you need to worry about."

"Right. For my own protection, huh? I know how it is." Dawn's voice was acid.

Buffy's hands shook and her limbs were heavy. Despite the rest in an actual bed, she felt more tired than ever. She sniffed and rubbed her nose before trying to tame her hair with her fingers.

"It's not like that, Dawn."

"Whatever." Dawn rolled her eyes. "I know I'm not important enough to - "

"Jesus fuck, Dawn! Not everything is about you, alright?" Buffy grimaced and held her head. When she looked up, Dawn was gaping in wide-eyed surprise. Buffy took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "Could you leave? I'm going to get dressed and go check with Giles."

Dawn slammed the door shut.

****

Buffy pulled Spike's coat more tightly around herself as the wind surged past her. 

After getting out of bed, Buffy had found her breakfast made courtesy of mom along with the news that Giles had called the gang to the magic shop to research the portal situation. Buffy was invited to join them.

She wasn't looking forward to seeing the Scoobies again. Would they ask questions? Would they think she was acting weird? _Was_ she acting weird? Would they be able to tell what she'd done in the other world?

She'd eaten her breakfast as slowly as possible but she eventually had to bite the bullet and start walking to the shop.

As Buffy turned the corner, she almost ran into Willow and Tara, both of them holding coffee cups. They looked clean.

"Buffy!" Willow startled. Tara fought the wind as it tried to blow her hair into her face.

"Hey," Buffy said. She straightened her posture. "Headed to the Magic Box?"

"Yeah." Willow nodded with a bright smile. Too bright a smile. "Giles called and told us, you know, the sitch. So we're gonna help. Of course. Whatever you need, Buffy! We're...right...here," she petered out, looking awkwardly to Tara.

"We're glad you made it back safely," Tara picked up her cue.

Buffy looked to the sidewalk, folding her arms around her and nodding. "Right. Now we just need to get Spike back."

"Uh huh. Spike." Willow wrinkled her brow. "That's his jacket?"

Buffy dug her fingers into the leather sleeves. "Yeah. It was cold our last night over there."

"What was...it like?" Willow leaned closer, ready for a sharing of confidence.

Buffy stepped back. "Different. Should we?" She motioned in the direction of the Magic Box.

Willow took the hint and nodded. With that, the three girls continued their walk.

The remainder of the journey was uncomfortable in its silence. Buffy felt their eyes on her every step of the way. She clung tighter to Spike's coat. It smelled like fucking and glory and extra-dimensional portals. It smelled like him.

_"Wouldn't worship _you."

Buffy blinked away the dimness as they entered The Magic Box. Across the room, Xander stood, waving a hand. He smiled.

"Hey there, Buff!"

Anya walked to his side from around behind the counter. "Hello, Buffy. We've closed the shop today to make you more comfortable." She nodded. "I hope you appreciate it."

Giles appeared from the back room. He glared at Anya over his glasses. "Yes, uh, I've collected some books that may be relevant."

"Well, then," Willow moved to the circular table. "We should get cracking, right?"

Research wasn't something Buffy had done much of during her time in the other world. As the others settled into the familiar behavior, Buffy hung back, at a loss of what to do. 

Xander turned a page. He looked up at her and smiled broadly, like he would to a child who'd just lost a parent. Willow gave her a sympathetic smile as she reached for her coffee. Buffy was on display, even if everybody was trying to pretend that she wasn't. They wanted to know everything, all the details, the dirty secrets. With every glance, they hoped to reveal more of her trauma. It was an undressing, but not at all sexual. Far more uncomfortable.

"I'm gonna use the training room," Buffy blurted out. Five heads looked up at her. "Unless you guys need me..."

That uncomfortable silence again. Giles leaned back. "If we need some information, we'll know where to find you."

"Right." Buffy nodded. Keeping her gaze fixed on the door to the training room, she escaped from the research party.

She sighed when she closed the door behind her. This was harder than she had thought it would be. 

Noticing the dummy in the corner, Buffy slipped Spike's jacket off her thin shoulders and slung it onto the strawman. She made sure the sleeves weren't rumpled, then she teased the straw emerging from the canvas head so that it resembled Spike's messy do. Well, if she squinted right.

It's girth was too large but it was about the right height. Buffy leaned against the jacket, inhaling as she closed her eyes.

What was it they said? If you feed a stray dog for three days, it becomes yours? Well, what if you were the one who was the stray dog? And then someone came along and swooped you up to take you back to the home you came from?

Buffy enjoyed the peace, allowing herself to doze lightly while standing next to the pseudo-Spike. This one was as responsive and warm as the real one, but without the complication of her feelings.

_"You really in love with me?"_

She cringed at memories of words she'd said. Words he'd said. Words he might say if given half the chance.

_"This help, pet?"_

Buffy nodded. 

_"So it'd be easier to get on with your mates if I were around, that it?"_

She frowned. "I wouldn't have to get on with 'my mates' if you were around."

_"Not like your little secret's gonna disappear if I arrive on the scene, you know."_

"Can we not talk about it?"

_"About the fact that your cunt's got the grime of thousands of demons lodged in it?"_

Buffy jerked backwards, pushing away from Spike's stand-in. "This cunt was good enough for _you_ to fuck!"

"Buffy?"

She turned to find Giles standing in the doorway. 

"What?" she snapped.

Giles appeared wary, but unperturbed. "We're going to need your help with this, I'm afraid."

Buffy moved away from the dummy to stand in the center of the room, arms crossed. "My help?"

"We need more information about this other world. I...hesitate to ask you, but if it's important to you that we get Spike back - "

"It is."

"Then I'm going to need to ask more about the...details of your stay."

Buffy didn't return his gaze. She focused on a spot on the doorframe just past his shoulder. She sighed. "What do you want to know?"

With a hesitant motion, Giles gestured for her to follow him back out to the group. After grabbing Spike's coat, Buffy reluctantly took a seat at the table, holding her body to herself as closely as possible.

"I need to hear more about this portal. Could you explain the ritual that brought you back over again?"

Buffy sighed. She kept her gaze on the center of the table, stubbornly refusing to meet her friends' eyes. They were all trying to do that "reassuring expression" thing again. She knew that if she glanced at one of them, they would nod encouragingly and then watch her reaction like a hawk. It was like she was being dissected. Vivisection, right there on Giles' table. 

"We - Spike and I - just followed the instructions in a book."

Giles pounced on that. "A book? Did you bring it with you?"

"No." Spike's coat gave her a tough hide. Literally. A protective barrier against the onslaught of probing concern. 

When silence followed, Buffy clarified further. "Dehevret had shown up just as we'd finished the ritual. We were in a rush."

"What was the book called?" 

Buffy scrunched her face. "Book of Langley? No, wait. Book of Langlar." She laughed. "It's funny, cause we actually got the book _from_ Dehevret. Paid him for it and everything."

Giles wasn't interested in the amusing anecdote, though. He had reached for the books. Obviously, the name had triggered something in his memory.

"What is it, Giles?" Willow asked.

"The Book of Langlar...sounds awfully familiar. Oh! Of course!"

Xander threw up his arms. "Of course! Why didn't we see it before?"

Giles nailed Xander with a side glance. "The, um, Book of Langlar is a dimensional constant."

"A what?" Buffy asked.

"He means it exists in every dimension." Anya didn't look up from the merchandise catalog she was thumbing through. "It's like the granddaddy of portal information."

"You have it?" Buffy asked.

"Well, no," Giles said. "I have books _about_ it."

Buffy slumped back into her seat, letting her feet rest flat on the floor.

"Not like we need it to figure out why Spike didn't make it back over," Anya said.

Everybody turned to her. She remained engrossed in her catalog.

"Ooo! This file cabinet is prettier than the one we have now!"

Giles removed his glasses. "Anya, would you care to elucidate on your statement?"

Anya finally looked up. "Well, you have your basic 'good in; bad out' portal, right? So Spike got a soul, thinking it would let him into the good side. But since it's not _his_ soul, the portal saw that he was fractured and wouldn't let him through."

Buffy's mouth went dry. "So Spike needs _his_ soul to get through to this side?"

"Yeah." Anya frowned. "Or if somebody got a hold of one of those portal-splitting devices that would create a large and permanent hole between the worlds, he could cross through, then."

In the heavy silence that covered the room after Anya's statement, Buffy could have sworn her heart stopped beating. She finally knew what Dehevret had been trying to get from this side of the portal: a device that would let Spike come through...as well as an army.

****

The creature moved sluggishly. His journey had not been easy. The torture he had endured still hindered his body from acting as quickly – and painlessly – as it should.

Once he had escaped, minus his stinger, it had been a simple matter to keep up with the traveling pair. The message he had received clarified his new mission: Cross over to the other side and find a sympathetic demon to return with the H'Talth stone.

Jigal entered the establishment known as "Willy's", one of the town's hubs of demon activity.

In this, his final mission, he would not let his master down.

_tbc..._


	13. Hopes

Spike chewed at the leather strap in his mouth. Wouldn't do anything, he knew, but it was better than doing nothing.

Dehevret had set up camp. Tents had been brought out, and Dehevret was being catered to with every luxury this world had to offer. He even now had his own pet vampire.

"You know why you couldn't make it through the portal, right?" Dehevret said airily while smoking a thin cigarette. 

Course he bloody well knew. He wasn't an idiot.

"I know, you're smart enough to figure out that that soul you acquired wasn't sufficient to get you through. Has to be your own, you see." Dehevret stubbed his cigarette out on Spike's cheek. Though Spike tried to get away, the guard at his side kept him in place. He snarled around the leather.

Dehevret stood, stretching his arms above his head. "Ugvan's men are coming to fetch you. I don't have any particular use for you, I'm afraid. And it's always worthwhile to stay on good terms with Ugvan."

Spike had guessed that was coming. He didn't know what Dehevret's ultimate plan was, though he had been reasonably sure it didn't involve him. 

If he was being gifted over to Ugvan, he was probably in for an unpleasant, though short, rest of his unlife. He wasn't going to fool himself into thinking that Buffy would come back for him. She would know as well as he did that without his original soul, he wouldn't be able to cross over. Besides, once she was back with her family, she probably wouldn't want him around to remind her of this lousy place.

Spike wouldn't willingly choose the noble sacrifice route in this instance, but since it was being forced upon him, he might as well give in and declare himself a hero.

****

Bare. Buffy wasn't even sure what she was looking for. After teasing more information from Anya, they'd concluded that they weren't sure what form this device might take. Whatever it was, it was gone. The site where the portal opened contained nothing but twigs and gravestones.

There were vampires about, though. She could sense them. One to her left, heading east. Probably to Willy's Place. She could stage a shakedown there. See what information Willy had for her. Dehevret had recruited people from her world to help him. Odds are, some creature in the underground knew what the sitch was.

Buffy let Spike's coat swirl around her as she turned in Willy's direction. A sudden movement behind her made her draw her stake.

With speed, she had Willow shoved up against a tree with the sharp wood pressed against her chest.

"Whoa! Whoa! Friend! Friend!" Willow cried.

Xander gaped. "Kemosabe, Buff! We're here to help."

Buffy sighed and released Willow. She stepped back, eying her two friends. 

"I don't need - "

"Our help, yeah, we figured you'd say that." Xander looked to Willow. They exchanged a glance as Willow rubbed her chest. The stake had torn a small hole in Willow's shirt. Ugly shirt anyway. No loss.

"But, listen, Buffy," Willow said. "We know you're still adjusting to...being back. Part of being back is having friends and accepting their help. Which is what we're doing now. Helping."

Xander nodded.

Buffy didn't like this. She wanted to shove them away and tell them to go home. Curl in on herself, find Spike, and keep everybody else at a safe arm's length.

She knew they were right, though. 

Grudgingly, she put her stake up. Best to listen to the rational part of her mind this time. "Don't get in the way."

She turned her back on them, trying to ignore their presence at each elbow. The air remained heavy with silence.

"So," Xander said. "Where we going?"

"Willy's"

"Oh! To see if he's heard of this Dehevret guy?" Willow asked, a bit too brightly.

Buffy frowned her annoyance. "He staged a huge vamping mission just a few days ago, your time. That has to have drawn some attention."

"Did you ever meet this guy?" Xander asked. "How big's he? We can kill him if he comes over, right?"

"I met him once. He's not a fighter." At least, she'd never heard of him fighting. Dehevret had minions for that.

"Ah, more of a lover, then?" Xander joked.

Buffy stopped. She turned to him. "Dehevret acquires. He owns. Money, land, demons, humans. When I was granted an audience with him, he had a human slave chained at his feet and tortured her while negotiating with us. He's a demon. He doesn't love."

She left a stunned Xander and Willow behind her. Why had it seemed so important that she tell him that? Buffy didn't know. She couldn't take somebody making jokes about that place. It wasn't funny. There wasn't a bit of it that was funny.

When Willow and Xander rejoined her, they were both quiet.

Okay, so maybe she shouldn't snap at them. They were trying to be helpful. Buffy didn't know how to deal with them, though. How to accept their naive attempts at comfort. How to graciously accept their jokes about the life she'd lived for the past five years. She could joke about it. Spike could joke about it. The humor was for those who had been through it. Xander and Willow were outsiders, though. They didn't know - couldn't know. Their humor didn't come from the need to alleviate the pain. 

The awkwardness was mercifully cut short as the group arrived at Willy's. Buffy swung the heavy door open, striding in without pause. For the first time since the other dimension, she was in a room full of demons. All eyes turned to her at her entrance, sunlight streaking into the grungy bar as Willow and Xander blocked the door from closing. 

Buffy gave a menacing glance around the room before making a beeline for Willy, himself. A few demons jumped up to leave. She let them.

"Tell me what you know." Buffy stood across the bar and pierced Willy with a look.

"I know many things, Slayer," Willy croaked. "Gotta be more specific."

The words were barely out of his mouth before Buffy drew back and delivered a punch to his nose. A weak one.

"Buffy!" Willow cried, but neither she nor Xander made a move to stop her.

Buffy tilted her head. "You know what I'm asking about. Big ritual went down last night, another big ritual on the horizon. Thing like that wouldn't escape your notice, Willy."

Holding his nose, Willy leaned closer to the counter to give her a frantic look. "I can't talk about this, Slayer." He looked around. "There would be some very angry demons after me if I did."

"And an angry Slayer is better than an angry demon?"

"At the moment, yes. You're not gonna rip my tongue out and use it to polish my own ass."

Buffy crossed her arms. "You're right. I wouldn't do that. I don't want to go anywhere near your tongue or your ass."

Willy looked confused.

"But I will do this."

Buffy jumped the bar, landing on Willy's side. She grabbed him by the neck and threw him back into the shelves of liquor and bottled blood. The crash shattered the wary quiet of the bar, and demons began sprinting out. Willow and Xander's yells got lost in the turmoil.

Buffy knelt to grab Willy by the front of his shirt. She slammed him to the floor, face first, and put a knee to his back. She wrenched his arm back and up, grabbing onto his pointer finger and bending it. 

"Losing my patience, Willy."

Her friends grabbed at her, trying to pull her off, but they didn't have the strength.

"Okay! Okay! Look up, Slayer, alright?"

"What the fuck does that mean?" Buffy applied more pressure on Willy's finger.

"It means look up!"

With a frown, Buffy did.

Staring down at her was Jigal.

He tried to skitter away. He wasn't fast enough.

Putting her Slayer speed to good use, Buffy coordinated a jump on top of the bar to grab Jigal and bring him crashing down on one of the tables.

"Where is it?" she yelled.

"What in the holy cockroach is that?" Xander shouted.

Willow had her hand fisted in Xander's sleeve and was keeping a careful distance from the demon.

"Souled demon," Buffy said by way of exposition. "Works for Dehevret. Was sent over to grab up the device and send it back along to his master, right?" She applied pressure to Jigal's thorax.

Jigal wheezed. "Remember what happened last time you tried to hurt me, Slayer."

Buffy almost backed off. Almost. Instead, she repositioned herself so as to not be in the way of his stinger. She tilted her head.

"You wouldn't be able to take it back to him, yourself, since you have a soul. You'd have to give it to a vampire or other demon to take it back over. So who has it?"

"Do your friends know?" Jigal changed the subject. "Do they know what you did over there?"

She tightened her grip. He wanted her to kill him. Knock him out. Anything to prevent him from telling her the information she needed. She wouldn't fall for it. She wouldn't.

She spared a glance over to her friends. They looked curious and disgusted at the same time.

Buffy's stomach dropped.

"Shut up," she said.

"Thought you wanted me to talk?" Jigal rasped. 

"About the device. Where it is." Her words were clipped as her jaw was tight with anger.

"We don't care what she did!" Willow blurted out. When Buffy looked over her shoulder, Willow was nervously shifting from one foot to the other. "It doesn't matter what he says, Buffy."

Xander nodded. "She's right, Buff. You were in a bad place. You did what you had to to survive. We get that."

Croaked laughter emerged from the bug beneath her. 

"She was a coke-addicted _whore_," he spit. "Still is. I know she was fucking that vampire she traveled with."

Buffy brought her fist down, smashing through his exoskeleten to rip through his insides. Black ooze sprayed over her and Jigal's irritating noises stopped abruptly. His limbs fell limp.

Killed him too late, though. Buffy panted, despite the fact that she had exerted little effort.

She turned to Willow and Xander. They stared back at her with shocked expressions. Buffy's heart ached.

"He...he wasn't gonna tell us anything useful."

****

Buffy's room was as it had been five years ago. It was as if it was trapped in one of those snow globe thingies with childish settings and sprinkled nostalgia. White sheets for a time when she'd actually deserved such purity. Butterfly - _butterfly_ \- stickers adorned the wall. A bulletin board with juvenile snapshots of her younger self. A child's room.

Not anymore.

After the to-do with Jigal, Buffy came home with a mission to wipe it out. Claw away the facade and create a room more suitable to her present self. 

It was past midnight, but the bed couldn't stay in the corner with the slanted ceiling. It traveled across the room, behind the door. It was awkward and inconvenient and _right_.

The dresser shifted next after it had been cleared of its decorations. Buffy ended up with three trash bags full of mementos, jewelry, and knick knacks. A fourth trash bag held her bedding, the frilly white linen. 

Somebody - probably her mother - had knocked on the door around one in the morning, but Buffy had ignored it. Some things needed to be done.

Part of it had been to stave off the cravings. The need for a hit. Now. Right now. Her skin was crawling, and her legs almost betrayed her several times. 

But the butterflies were more urgent. They had to come off. Scraped off with bare, now-ragged fingernails. She'd left ratty holes in the wallpaper.

She didn't need the coke. She didn't. She didn't. She didn't. So what if her friends knew she was a whore? Didn't matter. She could handle it. Without Spike. Without coke. 

Buffy wasn't sure what time it was when Willow came. The clock had been another casualty of the night. She wasn't going to let her in at first. But then:

"Buffy, I'm not leaving this spot until you talk to me!"

Buffy saw exactly what she'd expected to see when she opened the door. Willow stood with arms folded in front of her, chin set and jaw firm. Without any hesitation, Willow walked into Buffy's room and sat down on the bare mattress.

She looked around. "I think your Feng Shui is all out of sorts."

Buffy eyed her warily. Had she come to condemn her? Tell her how horrible she was? Had she told Giles? Or worse?

"Please don't tell my mom," Buffy blurted out.

Willow's eyes widened. Her determined expression gave way to a more empathetic face. "Of course not!"

Buffy's bottom lip trembled and she wiped her nose. Her body felt very tired even as her mind was still racing. "I just don't want her to _look_ at me like I'm..."

"Buffy, I - _we_ \- aren't gonna tell anyone."

Using all her Slayer strength, Buffy swallowed down her tears. She nodded and looked away to where the mirror had been. Of course, that had had to go. The only face she wanted to see right now didn't reflect.

"You're my best friend, Buffy."

Buffy knew Willow's eyes were boring into her, but she steadfastly kept her gaze to the wall.

"I know this was a while ago for you, but for me it was just last year. You remember our Freshman year at college? How we were all with the 'growing apart'? But then we realized that that was bad and hugged while rappelling down an elevator shaft? Well, I'm not suggesting we do _that_ again because that harness was uncomfortable, but...please let me be there for you, Buffy."

Buffy _did_ remember the elevator shaft and the promises of never growing apart. Friendship and love and camaraderie. She'd been starved of it for years now. For some reason, it hurt to be offered it again.

Still, she looked at her friend. Willow was younger than her now in so many ways. Yet she was always eager to be there for Buffy, whether in helping with the slaying or with life stuff. She wasn't scolding her or giving her disapproving looks.

"What do you want to know?"

Willow shrugged. "I don't want to know anything other than, you know, what you wanna tell me. Oh!" grabbed her bag and pulled out a box of Chips Ahoy. "I brought cookies. Would've made them, myself, but Tara was baking some magicky stuff in the oven, and I figured it's best not to mix cookies with magic."

Willow held up the cookies with a bright smile. She raised her eyebrows in a manner that was clearly meant to be enticing.

Cookies and a shoulder to cry on. Buffy would be a fool not to accept the offer. 

Buffy relented. She sat on the bed beside Willow and grabbed the cookies.

"So," Willow said. "The whole drug thing...is that, like, still ongoing? Not to be judge-y! But just to, you know, see where you are."

Buffy bit off a piece of a cookie. She didn't know how to answer. No? Yes? Last night, if it hadn't been for her own willpower, she would've been in an alley downtown looking for the hookup. But she hadn't, so no?

She finally shrugged. "I don't know."

"Oh."

"I haven't...had any for a week." A very long week. "There was an incident on the other side. I slipped."

"How do you feel?"

Like pulling her skeleton out through her pores. "Kinda tired."

"Well," Willow looked around. "You did decide to reorganize last night."

"I was tired before then."

"Okay." Willow reached over to grab a cookie. "Sorry. Guess I don't know much about...that."

Of course she didn't. Pristine Willow didn't know anything about drugs or fucking demons. 

Buffy shrugged in what she hoped was an off-hand fashion. "S'okay."

"The...the prostitution thing? How did that start? I mean, I'm not being judgmental about it or anything, but just, you know, if you want to talk or..." Willow trailed off, probably realizing that any more talking would probably cause her to start digging holes.

Buffy looked up at one of the places on the wall where a butterfly sticker had been. "My powers were sealed. I couldn't fight."

"That must have been hard."

"No." Buffy shook her head. "After a while, it was easy. Fighting back was hard."

This stilted conversation was like torture. What could Willow possibly understand about what Buffy went through? Buffy didn't even want to talk about it, anyway. What was the use? Stuff happened. Things were different now. Buffy didn't feel like spilling her tragic experience to some girl who was now five years younger than her.

"I need Spike back," Buffy said abruptly.

Willow took it in stride. "You two are, like, involved?"

"Something like that." Buffy sighed. "He makes things easier. He gave me a direction and a goal and..." a punching bag and a few punches and a hard cock she could control... "I don't know what to do without him."

"About that." Willow spoke in that voice she used when she'd been putting her brain to work. Buffy's head snapped up.

"What?" Buffy asked.

"Well, I mean, obviously we don't want to bust open the portal to let Deheveret in, but we do want to bring Spike over. He needs his soul, though, right?"

Buffy nodded, willing herself not to start hoping.

Willow grinned. "Not sure if you remember, but I _have_ given a vampire his soul before."

Buffy smiled. And hoped.

****

Buffy had insisted on a Scooby meeting as soon as possible, possible being 'right now'. The sun wasn't even up when the group gathered, all except Xander who had early morning construction work to do. Anya stood at the register with a pen in hand, going through the ledgers as the rest sat around the circular table.

The quietly atmospheric lights of the Magic Box made the darkness before dawn hazy as if everything were wrapped in a gauzy shroud. For the first time since her return, Buffy felt hope settle in her stomach. The cravings for her drug had evaporated as the cravings for a far more satisfying remedy held the promise of being indulged.

"That's...rather ingenious." Giles leaned back in his chair after hearing Willow's proposal. He looked stunned and impressed at the same time, though with a hint of concern mixed in. Buffy ignored the concern.

"So you think it'll work?" Buffy asked.

Giles removed his glasses, avoiding eye contact with her. "I can't see any reason why not."

"What do we need?" Buffy was ready to gather the supplies and do the spell now. There was no point in waiting.

Willow quickly squashed that idea, though. "An orb of Thesulah. We have it on backorder right now, I think." She grimaced. 

So much for expediency. Buffy refused to let the news vanquish her newly found hope, though.

"When will we get it in?" Buffy asked.

"Thursday." Anya didn't look up from her ledgers.

Buffy shook her head. By then, Dehevret's guy could already have gone back through. "That's too long."

"We also need Spike to stay near the portal. If he moves too far away, I don't think I'd be able to funnel the soul through to him. It would just," Willow wiggled her fingers. "Disappear into the ether over there."

More bad news. Buffy's hope began to crumble.

"Well, we could do a trans-dimensional relay," Tara spoke up with a sympathetic look towards Buffy. 

"Good idea!" Willow pointed and smiled brightly.

"What's that?" Buffy asked. For some reason, though Giles had remained quiet, he kept his gaze on her as if considering some great puzzle. It made Buffy nervous.

"It's just like sending a message across in a bottle addressed to Spike. We'll float the message through the portal, and it'll reach Spike through whichever magically concentrated medium he happens to be near," Willow explained.

"So we have to open the portal?"

"No," Tara said. "We just have to be near it to send the message through. We can do it tonight."

"Right now." Buffy insisted. No waiting. She'd already waited too long. Who knew what was happening to Spike?

"Okay, Buffy." Tara nodded in feigned understanding. "Um...what do you want to say?"

****

At some point, an army had arrived. Spike couldn't recall when that had happened. However, a glance out of the supply tent showed a legion of demon soldiers. 

It was an invasion force.

Whatever Dehevret had been trying to get from the other side had to break the portal open and let Dehevret cross over to his world with his men and take it. 

Spike found himself almost excited about the prospect of possibly seeing Buffy again. Though that nascent excitement never reached any substantial level. He knew Buffy was probably back in with her friends, having completely forgotten about him. He always knew that when she finally had the chance to mix in with her own kind, she wouldn't want to have anything to do with a demon. Any demon.

Who could blame her?

Though he was bitter, he couldn't bring himself to cheer Dehevret on in his plan of total destruction. Buffy didn't know what was coming. She'd be taken by surprise. Her and her friends, vulnerable to raging demon hordes that they were completely unaware of. 

Right, it called for more heroics from him, then. Not only would he get the bint home, he'd stop this invasion from happening. Probably go unrecognized and unrewarded for his efforts, as was the norm. At least he'd go out knowing she'd made it and was safe from this world. From the demons.

Fuck, when had he started caring?

"I heard there was a vampire here."

Spike turned to find a familiar woman entering the tent. Last time he'd seen Avery, she'd helped them translate the ritual to get home after unsealing Buffy's powers. That, and she'd been a newly freed human. Now she sported a thick metal chain around her neck, and she carried a pitcher of water. Without expression, she set the pitcher down on a table. She then turned to shift through the crates of supplies, fetching soldiers' rations and plopping them into a wicker basket.

"Joining up with Dehevret?" Spike asked.

Avery snorted, and Spike noted that her eyes were red with fatigue. "Your girl make it home?"

"Yeah," Spike confirmed.

"But you didn't."

"No."

Avery replaced the lid on one crate to move to the next. She avoided his eyes. 

"You know that was gonna happen?" Spike asked.

Avery shrugged. "Thought it might. Wasn't sure, though."

"Aren't you a peach?"

Thin blankets began to fall into the basket. Avery kept her back to him.

Maybe Buffy had had the right of it in punching the bitch.

A pulse went through the tent, and Avery lurched. The blanket fell from her hands, and she grabbed her forehead. Her eyes squeezed shut.

"Shit!" she said tightly.

Spike jumped in his restraints. Bloody lot of help he was. "What's wrong?"

"Spike," she said. Her body hunched over and her eyes remained closed. "Stay near the portal. Don't let them move you..."

He frowned. "What?"

"Buffy's bringing you home."

"What?" he asked.

Avery was recovering. She straightened up, with a hand on the crate in front of her. Her breathing was hard, and she pulled at the metal collar at her throat. 

"Avery."

She didn't answer. Instead, she went to the water and poured herself a cup before sitting down unsteadily. She acted as if he weren't in the room.

"Come on, Avery. What the bloody fuck was that?" Spike growled, getting impatient.

Finishing a gulp, Avery jerked her head around to face him. "I'd say it's your girl using me to transfer a message along. You're welcome, by the way. Don't exactly _enjoy_ having my body hijacked like that, but hey, you guys do what you need to, right?"

So it was Buffy. Buffy was trying to get him home. Spike let his gaze fall to the floor as the awe settled through him.

"Buffy," he whispered as he closed his eyes.

"You know, I wouldn't even fucking _be_ here if it weren't for you two idiots!" Spike opened his eyes to see Avery launch to her feet in anger. "Wyver getting killed? Your fault. Dehevret coming along and snapping me up? Your fault. This damn _thing_ \- " Avery pulled at the collar around her neck. " - _your_ fucking fault! You two are a curse. How many others have you fucked over to get back to your fucking paradise?" Avery threw the empty cup at him.

"I need to talk to Dehevret." He ignored her rage.

"Didn't you hear a word I just said?"

He rolled his eyes. "Not my problem, pet."

Avery's eyes narrowed and a steely calm fell over her. "I'd say it's damn well your problem. I know you like to pawn your problems onto others, but - "

"Listen, luv, _you_ killed your master! We didn't tell you to do that. _You're_ the one that took Dehevret's deal. Blame your fucking self."

"I wouldn't have been _offered_ that deal if Dehevret weren't so dead-set on that slut getting home!"

"You shut your fucking mouth about Buffy!" Spike snapped. 

Avery complied, though anger rolled off her in waves. It was only the urgency of Buffy's message that forced Spike to ignore his glow screaming at him. With measured words, Spike spoke in a softer voice.

"We all make our choices, pet. You made a fucking awful choice. Can't foist it off on us. Now, I need to talk to Dehevret."

Avery looked to bite back another tirade. Instead, she straightened her back and met his eyes. "Right, we all make our choices. Just like your _Buffy_ made the choice to become a coke-addicted whore." She turned. "Good luck talking to Dehevret."

She moved to walk away from him and out of the tent.

"Help me," he said quickly. "You're mobile and I'm not." Spike tugged at his restraints. "Go to him and tell him I want to make a deal."

Avery stopped and turned slightly to glare at him. "Cause me and Dehevret, we have such a good rapport."

"Please."

"Why? Why the _hell_ should I do one more thing for you?"

Good question, that. Spike knew appeals to goodwill toward him or Buffy would go nowhere. Avery didn't care. Had no reason to care. 

And what did he have to offer her? She'd had enough of demons. Had enough of being owned. What did she want? Freedom? Chit probably wouldn't know what to do with it. Still, he could offer. If Buffy was bringing him home, then what's to stop him bringing Avery along with? Bring her along to Sunnydale and let her loose on arrival. 

Spike looked up at her, about to propose the arrangement, when he noticed her eyes. Dead eyes staring through him to the unmatched soul residing in his heart. She didn't care anymore. Hope had left the station years ago, and no amount of promises would guarantee happiness for her. Avery was too weary for freedom.

He spoke softly. "I'll do it for you." Avery's eyebrows raised in question. Spike clarified. "What you want."

She stilled. The fight left her and her shoulders sagged. Her expression remained frozen, though this time it was in an effort to mask her reaction from him rather than because of genuine apathy.

"Can't do it yourself, can you?" Spike nodded at the metal collar.

Avery nodded. "It has a spell. Prevents me from..."

"I'll do it. When I leave for the other side."

After a moment's pause, Avery nodded. "Fine."

****

The worst part about being held captive by a sadistic megalomaniac was the waiting. Spike had quickly run out of ways to entertain himself. Wallowing in his own thoughts was never an appealing prospect. He'd never been one for introspection. And the message from Buffy had only spurred him to act. Sitting in one spot, stationary, felt wrong.

He'd been half-convinced that Avery wasn't going to follow through on her promise. Would be like her. Maybe she was going to rat him out instead. Loyalty wasn't one of her strengths.

However, a couple of muscles came in eventually and, without a word of explanation, began to drag him to another tent.

He was thrown in through the flap. Without any hint of grace, Spike flopped onto his knees, head bouncing against the hard dirt. A familiar chuckle bounced around the canvas walls as Spike looked up.

"Shoulda told me you wanted that soul for a portal, laddo! Coulda told you it was useless!" Ugvan treated him to a broad, toothy grin.

Spike growled. Ugvan was here? Why? Spike surely wasn't important enough to require the presence of the great mage, himself. He had lackeys for that.

Dehevret was, for once, without his usual assortment of slaves beside him. Instead, he reclined in an elaborate, non-travel-friendly chair. He looked at Spike with intense annoyance. "I've been told you have an urgent message for me, vampire. It better be good. I'm in the middle of trading you in for a lot of money."

Right. The plan. Spike had to get into character. 

He raised himself up as much as he could from his kneeling position, attempting to project an air of rebellious indignation. "Got a better proposition for you, _mate_. Fork out some cash to pay off my loan to Uggo, here, and you'll get some strategic advantage in your fight against the Slayer."

He might as well have told Dehevret he had a set of sparkly yoyos to sell to him. The demon was not impressed. "My what?"

"You're planning on invading that world, right? Well, I can tell you that Buffy, that tiny slip of a girl, is on the other side making preparations for you. You want to conquer? You're gonna have to get past her."

Dehevret's face was a mask. Spike couldn't get a gauge on whether he was making any headway on convincing him or not. Guy should play poker. 

"And you're, what, willing to help?" Dehevret asked.

Spike scoffed. He'd been preparing for this since Avery had left him. "Damn right, I am. I found the bitch, got her on the straight and narrow, did all the work, then she prances through the portal and I'm left here? Fuck that. I had one goal starting out: get back to my bloody world. Whether I do it with her or you, I don't care."

Dehevret finally looked interested. "So what, exactly, are you offering, vampire?"

"Look, I know the slut, alright? Not just on this side. I knew her over there, too, back when she was the Slayer. I fought her, fought with her. I know how she thinks. You don't. And, no offense, but there's no fucking way a demon like you from this side is gonna be able to understand what a chit from over there's thinking. 'Specially a Slayer."

Dehevret looked thoughtful. He turned toward Ugvan. "What do you think?"

"Hey, if I get what he owes me, with interest, then I'm set." He put his hands up. "I'm not getting involved with this 'other world' business. You know that's not my gig."

Dehevret turned back to Spike. "Very well."

Spike had to fight the wave of disgust that coursed through him. Deal with the Devil, signed and sealed.

_tbc..._


	14. Demons

Buffy had cut her hair. Well, she hadn't done the cutting. She'd gone to a stylist. Not her usual one - or the one that had been her usual one - but a different one she'd never been to named Rachel who had plans to be an actress in LA as soon as she got enough money to get out of her parent's house. Rachel thought Buffy's hair was pretty, but _so_ not taken care of properly, but it was okay because a deep conditioning and some highlights would brighten things up.  
  
Buffy ran a hand through her hair. It stopped a half-inch below the shoulders. She'd wanted it shorter, but Rachel had insisted that this was the perfect length for her. Who was Buffy to argue with Rachel?  
  
She crouched at the foot of the Johnson memorial. The statue of the Virgin Mary loomed over her. Buffy quickly became uncomfortable with the symbolism and walked to the next tombstone.   
  
Everything relied on timing now. Jigal had given the device to someone. Whoever that was was surely going to try to reopen the portal in the next couple days. Buffy intended to stop them.  
  
However, she hoped they would wait until Thursday, when the orb of Thesulah arrived. Then they could destroy the device _and_ bring Spike back, all at the same time.  
  
She had a feeling that circumstances wouldn't be so obliging. That's why she was in the cemetery at three in the morning. Waiting.   
  
Fortunately, the ritual to open the portal was hard to hide. Buffy would have fair warning when it started, what with the chanting and fire and drug trips.  
  
The nights in the graveyard felt more like home than her house did. She was among death and demons, and she was waiting for the one piece to come back to her to make it all complete.  
  
****  
  
No portal. Still, three fledgling vamps dusted, so Buffy felt accomplished by the time she went home.  
  
The house was quiet as a tomb when she entered. The click of the front door closing whipped through the stillness. The long-forgotten familiarity of the act - coming home at dawn after having fought the simple evil of freshly risen vampires - was comforting. It settled in her stomach like a warm meal.  
  
Then she saw Dawn sitting at the top of the stairs. An icy gust cut through the warmth. Dawn wielded the full force of her teenage glare. Buffy fought her instinct to turn around and leave.  
  
"I could smell that coat from here. It stinks," Dawn said.   
  
Buffy brought a hand up to the edge of Spike's leather duster. It smelled like him.  
  
"You're in my way," Buffy said. She didn't know how to deal with little sisters anymore. Especially little sisters that weren't really hers but didn't know it. Buffy only had room for so much interaction she could manage. This wasn't on the list.  
  
Dawn raised her eyebrows. "I want to know what's going on."  
  
"Move." Eye on the prize. If Buffy could get to her room, she would be safe.  
  
"Everybody keeps hiding stuff from me. I'm not a kid, you know. I can handle...whatever it is."  
  
Buffy rubbed her eyes. "Dawn, move."  
  
"You're not my sister."  
  
Buffy snapped to attention. "What?"  
  
"You look older. And you're skinnier. Not, like, hot model skinny but, like, starving drug addict skinny. You can't be my sister. Some demon or something stole your body or cast some spell to make us think you're Buffy, but you're not." Dawn's jaw was firm. "What did you do to Buffy?"  
  
Oh god. Dawn could tell? It was that obvious? Buffy fought to keep her expression steady, but she wasn't doing a good job. Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes, and she felt the ache of held-in sobbing in her throat.  
  
"Dawn, I...," her voice broke.   
  
Dawn's expression faltered. She looked confused.  
  
Buffy ran her fingers through her hair. She had to finish. Avoiding this was easier. This was responsibility. Something she'd been sent by some monks many years ago, and she knew it was something she'd have to face and handle soon but she couldn't now. Not now.   
  
Except that Dawn's eyes were so large as she stared at her, waiting for answers. Buffy couldn't shove Dawn aside till she was ready to deal with her.   
  
"I...I am Buffy, but I'm...you're right." She sniffed. "I'm older and too skinny and not perky and my nose is red and I'm wearing a really smelly coat, but," she looked up. "I'm still the Slayer, and I will _still_ protect you. From anything -_everything_."  
  
She held Dawn's gaze. Gone was the icy glare, along with the firm determination. Gone also was the confusion. Now there was fear and nervousness. She was making Dawn nervous.  
  
"Protect me from what?"  
  
Buffy looked down. "From demons."  
  
The moment held. Buffy refused to look at it. Dawn broke the standoff by standing slowly. Without a word, she retreated to her room. She paused at the doorway to watch as Buffy finished her journey to the top of the stairway.  
  
"I'm still gonna find out what's going on," Dawn blurted out.  
  
Buffy nodded. "I know."  
  
She didn't bother with a shower. She didn't even bother changing into PJs. Buffy collapsed onto her bed and fell asleep while wearing Spike's coat.  
  
****  
  
Sheer determination allowed Buffy to not let her encounter with Dawn bother her. She had so much else to worry about. She couldn't let Dawn add onto that.  
  
She didn't sleep long. She woke up in the early afternoon. Dawn was in school and her mother was at the gallery. Buffy took the opportunity of the empty house to take a deliciously long shower, even taking the extra time to shave everything.  
  
She left the house feeling refreshed and ready to continue her current mission: Foil Dehevret and get Spike back.  
  
The house had been a minefield lately. Buffy had the dual obstacles of her mother and Dawn, neither of whom she wanted to be around. Dawn reminded her of other responsibilities she had, and her mother made her ache and want to cry.   
  
Reaching the Magic Box felt like she was tagging home base. The bell rang at her arrival. Safe.  
  
Sorta.  
  
Anya slammed down her inventory book and stood ramrod straight at the counter. Everybody - Willow, Xander, Tara, and Giles - were present. That didn't make any sense. It was early in the day. The others had places to be. So why...?  
  
"Hello, Buffy!" Anya said loudly. "It's good to see you not currently under the influence of an illicit substance."  
  
Fuck home base. Buffy froze, steel nerves rooting her to her place. All commands from her brain jumbled together: run, fight, yell, cower, run, run, RUN.  
  
Everybody else sat similarly frozen like a bizarre tableau. Moving would shatter the performance. Buffy longed to stay in this safe, delicate moment before everything started to...  
  
Xander turned to Anya. "Very subtle, Ahn."  
  
The moment snapped. Buffy snapped. Fight it was.  
  
"You two." Buffy looked to Willow and Xander. "You said you wouldn't - "  
  
Willow cringed, looking at Tara briefly before facing Buffy again. "We didn't mean to, Buffy! It just kinda..." She made a strained face and put her hands out in a shrug. "You know?"  
  
Buffy shook her head. She didn't know. She didn't _want_ to know.  
  
"Look, Buffy," Xander tried to use his placating tone. "We weren't expecting you to be here so early. What happened to you...it's a bit much for just Will and I to handle. We're trying to help."  
  
Buffy gaped. "_Gossiping_ about me is helping?"  
  
"We weren't 'gossiping'." Willow frowned.  
  
"Oh, excuse me, talking about my _personal_ business to people when I specifically _asked_ you not to?" Buffy's voice shook. "Tell me how that's helping."  
  
"Hey," Xander said sternly. "It's not fair to expect us to just deal with it on our own, okay? We're out of our depth here. And we didn't go around telling strangers on the street, you know. Anya and Tara and _Giles_, they care about you, too."  
  
Tara looked down at her hands at the mention, but Anya nodded her head broadly. Giles remained by the stairs, cup of tea in hand. He might as well not have been in the discussion.  
  
"I know they care about me - " Buffy attempted to take a measured tone, but Willow cut her off.  
  
"They do! We all do! And I get that this is all weird for you, but think about it from our side. A couple days ago, you were our friend, Buffy, all normal and stuff. Then you pop in one morning and you're older and moody and wearing Spike's coat and we have no clue what's going on but we're being asked to research on portals and demon dimensions." Willow reached the end of her tirade and petered off. "So...cut us some slack, okay? We're trying."  
  
Xander jumped on the end of Willow's statement. "She's right, Buffy," he said. "We love you, but we're confused and worried. That's all."  
  
Right. Confused and worried. This was all so hard for them.  
  
"And then there's the Spike thing," Anya piped up.  
  
Buffy snapped her eyes to Anya. "What 'Spike thing'?"  
  
Xander waved an arm. "You know, Buff...we're going through an awful lot of trouble and risking our dimension for _Spike_." He grinned as if he'd told a joke. When he didn't get the reception he'd been hoping, he put a serious expression back on. "We get that, what with the trauma over there, you probably feel, I dunno, grateful to him or something. But you're back over here now."  
  
Willow took the ball. "That's right. You have us, so..."  
  
"So you don't need to bone Spike anymore," Anya finished.  
  
A group cringe swept the room, but nobody offered a counter to Anya's statement.  
  
Buffy's gaze swept the room. A lot of averted eyes. Only Xander and Willow met her stare directly. They met her with a challenge to be mad at them. To stay mad at them. To not relent before their explanations.  
  
Wouldn't work. Buffy wouldn't let go of her anger that easily. She reached back to slam the door open. "Fuck that."  
  
She left.  
  
*****  
  
This was not how she'd expected the day to go.  
  
Buffy peeled Spike's coat off, tossing it onto her bed. She felt a chill throughout her body, a deadness rooted deep. Of course Willow and Xander had told the others. Her personal trauma was a group problem after all.  
  
She yanked her t-shirt over her head and ripped her bra off. It was too big anyway. She stood to undo her jeans and let them drop before stepping out of her panties.  
  
Naked, she climbed into bed and pulled Spike's jacket back over her shoulders.  
  
She could pretend it was him holding her. So right, he hadn't done much of that, but she could imagine it. Funny that a dead guy would be her lifeline.  
  
Buffy closed her eyes, remembering the angular curves of his body, his lean figure, etched sharp cheekbones, and piercing eyes. His habit of mumbling to himself - annoying at first, endearing later. After she'd...  
  
He always told her the truth, even when the truth was that she was pathetic and he didn't love her. He never held back. He shoved her onto her feet and got her out of that hellhole. How could she not develop feelings?  
  
There was more, though. It wasn't just about what he _did_ for her. It was about who he was - what he was. The reluctant leader at first, the keen insight, the romantic heart. Oh sure, jaded and bitter after all these years, but she could still see it. Glimpses of it when he allowed.  
  
And then a demon with a hangnail of a soul. Her enemy. Everything she hated, now with a vengeance. And being with him would be...  
  
She bit her lip. It would be getting past it, wouldn't it? Not letting what happened keep her boxed in. It would be an ablution.  
  
Not only from the demons but from who she'd become to survive.  
  
When she realized this, she started crying. She held her hand over her mouth, trying not to sob loudly. She didn't want her mom or Dawn to know that she was upset. God, had the others told her mom? They'd said they wouldn't, but they'd proven unreliable in that department.  
  
She couldn't do anything about that. She had to think of something else. Anything else.  
  
Spike. His grin. His raised eyebrow. His tongue. That wicked tongue that had a special talent for making her feel so good.  
  
Buffy grabbed a handful of the jacket to bring it up to her nose and mouth. As she inhaled, she crept her other hand down to her pussy. Already wet. The mere thought of Spike did the trick.  
  
She teased herself, like she knew he would were he here. She traced her finger around her outer lips and sighed in anticipation. With two fingers, she opened herself up, wading one finger into the moisture to slick around her opening.  
  
With a moan, she thrust her hips, then giggled. She was getting impatient with herself - with Spike.  
  
His leather surrounded her, and in her mind's eye she could pretend that he went along with it. That it was his fingers that lightly brushed her clit to hint at what he was about to do. It was his other hand that grabbed her breast and squeezed.  
  
She rolled onto her back when Spike inserted his finger inside her, reaching up her tunnel to stroke her inner walls. Buffy threw her head back and bent her knees, contorting her body so as to allow him the maximum penetration.  
  
He would laugh, then, she knew he would. That low rumbling laugh. Then his thumb found her clit and rubbed with superhuman speed as his finger remained hooked in her pussy, digging at her core.  
  
Buffy bit her lip and shuddered an exhale. Her own fluid drenched her hand. She pressed her palm flat against her vulva, pressing against her clit with the flat surface. As she did so, she thrust another finger.  
  
She finger-fucked herself. _Spike_ finger-fucked her. She knew he would. Just like this.  
  
She felt herself getting close. She threw an arm over her mouth so as to bite down on the leather sleeve. Her index finger hit the pleasure spot inside her, and she braced for the inevitable tidal wave of sensation.  
  
It didn't come.   
  
She didn't come.   
  
Instead, the stimulation kept building until it collapsed on itself. Buffy had tears in her eyes - of frustration, not pleasure - when she realized her clit was hurting and her pussy was aching. There was no release.  
  
She removed her hand, throwing herself back against the mattress.  
  
Fuck.  
  
****  
  
Campfires lit the night outside. Tiny sparks of light that rippled in the thin slice of landscape that Spike could see outside the tent. Would tonight be the night the portal opened? Preparedness tensed Spike's muscles. Whether with an invading army or by himself, he would get home. Well, unless Dehevret sent him off with Ugvan.  
  
The day had been long. After reaching an agreement, Dehevret had retired for the evening. Spike spent the entirety of the ensuing daylight hours back in the supply tent. At one point, a guard had tossed in a rabbit for him to feed from.   
  
It wasn't until the sun went down that Spike was, again, taken to Dehevret's tent. As before, Ugvan sat in the esteemed guest's chair, a tattered hardbound book balanced on his knee.  
  
Spike's shackles were removed. Dehevret dismissed the guards with a wave of his hand.  
  
"So tell me about yourself." Dehevret poured a clear brown drink from a fancy bottle. He passed one tumbler to Ugvan and kept the other for himself. He didn't offer one to Spike.  
  
"Thought you wanted to know more about the Slayer," Spike said.  
  
Dehevret shrugged. He took his place in his throne-like chair, crossing one leg over the other. "I like knowing the wider picture."  
  
"Uh huh. And why's _he_ still here?" Spike glared at Ugvan.  
  
Ugvan looked up from his book. "Oh, I'm just here purely out of curiosity now. Dehevret's doing some exciting things. Don't want to miss it."  
  
"Right."  
  
"How old are you, vampire?" Dehevret interrupted.  
  
Spike turned back to Dehevret. "Over a century."  
  
"That's old for a vampire."  
  
"Not really. Vampires live longer on my side."  
  
Dehevret grinned. "There's an irony there. Vampires live longer on the side with a Slayer than they do on the one without."  
  
"Yeah, well, there are also a whole lot fewer demons and so more humans to feed off."  
  
"And you prefer that? That is why you wanted to go back, isn't it?"  
  
Spike sighed. "This place is a bit shit, if you ask me."  
  
"Don't have to. Many demons would say the same."  
  
"That why you're invading?"  
  
Dehevret shrugged. "Never hurts to acquire new territory. But I want to hear more about you, vampire. How ever did you become close to the Slayer in that world?"  
  
"Weren't exactly 'close'. Tried to kill each other. Standard thing, yeah? But then I got fitted with this _chip_ that zapped my brain if I tried to hurt anything. Could only fight demons."  
  
"So you fought demons beside the Slayer?"  
  
"Hardly." Spike sneered. "Fought demons on my own for fun. Sometimes, I'd work with the Slayer if it suited my needs."  
  
"And the two of you were fighting together on the night you came through the portal?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Hmmm. I feel for you, vampire."  
  
"Your empathy touches me deeply."  
  
"You're in love with her."  
  
Spike froze, stunned. "I...what?"  
  
"It's easy to tell. It's practically oozing out of your pores. Makes sense. A caged half-breed, drawn to the most powerful and deadly woman on earth. The one person who could utterly destroy you is the one person you can utterly love. That's what love is, is it not? Exposing yourself? Allowing yourself to be destroyed by another?"  
  
"You're giving me lessons in love?"  
  
"Tell me I'm wrong."  
  
Spike couldn't, though he resented the hell out of it.  
  
"That soul you have in you," Dehevret continued. "Softens you, you know. It's a human soul. Means you have some ounce of sympathy for the creatures. Don't need to tell you that that's a liability for me."  
  
"Listen, this damned soul has been a nuisance since I got it. I've gotten in the habit of ignoring the fucking thing. Don't think you need to worry 'bout me not being able to take out a human."  
  
"I'm glad you think so, Spike, I really am." Dehevret made a small gesture. "I just want you to prove it."  
  
As Dehevret finished the sentence, the guards walked into the tent with Avery trailing behind them. Spike felt the steady pulse of uncertainty churn his gut.  
  
Avery didn't give a second's glance to Spike. She directed her defiant gaze to Dehevret, chin raised.  
  
"This is the human woman you stayed with before coming here, correct?" Dehevret asked.  
  
"So? You wanting me to kill her?"  
  
"She helped you and the girl. Don't tell me that human soul in you feels no qualms about hurting her."  
  
"Told you, mate. Doesn't much matter what the soul _feels_. I'm the one in control."  
  
That much was true, of course. Spike had hated the fucking soul since day one, but no matter how it railed against him, he still pulled his own bloody strings. Not one to take directions from a bit of fuzzy spirit.  
  
"As you say. Then consider this a gift from me to you. A human for you to let loose your _demon_ impulses." He held up a finger. "I don't want you to kill her. I still have uses for a slave with such magic skills." Dehevret smiled. "But please make her bleed some. I could use the entertainment, and this one has been frightfully hard to break. I would be most grateful if you could get her to scream."  
  
Thum. Thum. Thum. Thum.  
  
Spike first thought it was his heart tapping a mad staccato. But no. It was Avery's pulse, racing in repressed panic. It beat in time to the cries of his glow, warning him away from the task Dehevret had set for him.  
  
He looked to Avery, who only treated him to the same defiant look she had given to Dehevret. There was something beneath the defiance of her gaze and the fear of her blood, though. It was a challenge. She dared him to do it and prove that she had been right, after all. Either way, she emerges victorious.  
  
Shouldn't be too hard, right? He and Buffy had had a spot of fun with Jigal. Though that hadn't ended very well. Didn't matter. He was a vampire. Course he didn't mind a spot of torture every now and again.  
  
Except that Avery was a human who had helped them. That made it wrong, didn't it? The soul was screaming as such, but could he trust it?   
  
Did it even matter? If he refused, Dehevret would send him away with Ugvan. Spike would miss the portal home, and end up stuck in this damn world.   
  
Avery's heart continued to beat. Too long a hesitation might reveal his true intentions.  
  
Wouldn't that be right, though? Stopping Dehevret...Buffy could do that on her own. He wasn't needed. The only reason he had to stay was so he could cross over. It was selfish. Like Avery had said. There was no noble motivation here. To get home, Spike had to torture Avery.  
  
Spike closed his eyes briefly, weighing it in his mind. The fucking soul in him protested no matter what he did. He couldn't trust it. The damn thing simply hated being stuck inside a demon. He had to consider a different tack. A different strategy.  
  
_What would Buffy do?_  
  
He knew. He knew, thanks to her message. She wanted him over there with her. Whatever the means, he knew she wouldn't care.  
  
Fuck right and wrong. He'd never have gotten this far if he had paid much attention to them. Wouldn't even have gotten Buffy from the brothel if he'd played it straight.  
  
The thump of Avery's heart was swiftly drowned out by the sound of bones cracking as Spike fell into his vampire guise. In the pause between heartbeats, Spike shot a hand out to grip Avery by the hair. She flinched briefly before squaring her jaw. Her eyes never left his.   
  
Thumthumthumthumthumthumthum  
  
Her heart or that soul? Neither of them mattered.  
  
He growled to drown out both noises.  
  
Angelus had certainly taught him enough about the art of torture way back in the day. Of course, Spike had always been more for the fight. Brawls and punches and fangs. The refined act of carefully applying pain to a person had never appealed to him. He was always too impatient to get straight to the gushing blood and death cries.  
  
Had to go slow now, though. Make a proper show of it. Make sure she screamed.  
  
He looked at Avery's determined eyes. This one wouldn't scream easily.  
  
Without a warning, Spike kicked at Avery's kneecap with the flat of his foot. The bone snapped, her joint bending backward. Avery fell down, teeth gritted in pain.  
  
Spike looked to Dehevret, thinking of those campfires scattered across the landscape outside.  
  
"Need some fire, mate."  
  
****  
  
Speedy's Billiards and Games was an establishment that had opened down the street from The Fish Tank two years ago. The two bars subsequently competed to out-sleaze each other. Speedy's won due to its seemingly peppy facade. The neon sign outside the building blinked with a large smiling face. The "billiards and games" tagline almost made it appear to be a family place. That is, if you ignored the line of motorcycles and smoke streaming from the door.  
  
It was a dive bar filled with billiard tables and half-functional electronic bar games. When The Fish Tank had gone under, Speedy's had acquired all of its games. As such, the bar sported a variety of electronic fishing games.  
  
Every evening stood a guy in the back by the emergency exit, behind the billiard tables.   
  
Buffy was the Slayer. Of course she knew where the drug dealers hung out in Sunnydale. Oh, she never paid them much mind. Human criminals weren't her purview. However, they were usually ripe victims for vamps, so she had the transaction spots down for patrol.  
  
She wasn't patrolling today.  
  
She knew she shouldn't be doing this. It was wrong. It was backwards. It was bad, bad, bad.   
  
But she needed it. Needed it like she needed air. She'd tried so, so hard to make it through the day, but everything kept piling on top of each other until she couldn't do it. She just couldn't do it.  
  
So she would do this.  
  
The guy's name was Oscar, and he peddled at Speedy's on the regular. He kept his hoodie down as Buffy approached, probably thinking she was going for the bathrooms nearby.  
  
She didn't.   
  
She stopped beside him, casually looking around. A gaggle of bearded metal-heads broke a new billiards game.  
  
"How much?" she asked quietly.  
  
She could feel him inspecting her. He must notice her twitchiness, her red eyes, red nose. She'd pass inspection. She had to. Otherwise she might have to resort to less friendly methods.  
  
"Sixty a gram."  
  
Shit, that was a lot. She didn't have much. She'd taken some money - not all of it - from her mom's wallet. She was going to pay it back, of course. And she'd only taken half, so her mom wasn't left with nothing.  
  
It wasn't enough, though.  
  
She knew what she was going to do even as she didn't want to do it. Unfortunately, her mind was already coming up with dozens of excuses.  
  
She leaned in to Oscar. "I don't have enough cash. Could pay you another way."  
  
He met her eyes with raised eyebrows. She nodded.  
  
Oscar looked around before he turned and motioned for her to follow him out the emergency exit and into the back alley. Buffy had never felt so small. So horrible.  
  
This wasn't wrong, right? It was just sex. It didn't mean anything. It's not like her body hadn't ever been used as currency before. No big.   
  
She stripped Spike's coat off and tossed it to the ground before Oscar stopped and turned to her.   
  
"On your knees, then," he said.  
  
Buffy complied.   
  
Why was she doing this? For the drugs. Right, the drugs. Bad day, after all. She deserved it. If Willow and Xander hadn't blabbed to the others about everything, she wouldn't be here. So in a way, it was all _their_ fault that she was on her knees in front of a sturdily built drug dealer as he zipped down his pants.  
  
Spike couldn't begrudge her that.  
  
Well, he wouldn't begrudge her anything. He didn't love her. And this was why.  
  
Her heart snapped, and Buffy remembered exactly _why_ she needed these drugs. This wasn't sex. It was a business transaction.  
  
Then Oscar's hand was in her hair and she surged forward to take him in her mouth.   
  
Like riding a bike. She'd never forget how to do this. She had even perfected the art of doing it as quickly as possible so as to finish things up. She did so then, sucking as hard as she felt possible with her Slayer powers without hurting him.  
  
She was startled from her task by the low chuckling of two men coming down the alley. Buffy released Oscar and looked up to see two vampires approaching.  
  
"Fuck!" Oscar yelled, zipping himself up. He obviously hadn't seen their deformed faces. "Go away! Can't you see we're busy?"  
  
Buffy stayed on her knees. She was about to lose her drugs. She'd beat the baddies and he'd run away and she'd get nothing. She'd stuck his dick in her mouth for nothing.  
  
She stood up and put a hand out to the vamps. "Stay right there!"  
  
They paused in surprise, looking at each other in confusion.  
  
Buffy turned to Oscar and grabbed at his hoodie. "Give it to me."  
  
"Hey! Hey!" Oscar protested as she frisked him. "What you doing, bitch?"  
  
Nothing. Nothing. He had nothing. She shoved him against the wall, "Where's the coke?"  
  
"Bitch, I don't carry it on me. You pay me, I hook you up with a runner."  
  
Buffy frowned. Right, she hadn't had to deal with all this shit on the other side. Her pimp had hooked her up. She didn't know the game over here.  
  
Somebody tapped on her shoulder. She turned and ended up face-to-face with one of the vampires.  
  
"Gonna suck our dicks, too?" he asked.  
  
"Vampires! Fuck!" Oscar yelled upon seeing the vamps' faces.  
  
Buffy didn't hesitate, though. She threw a punch, connecting with the vamp's nose. His partner growled and tried to pull her towards him, but she broke his hold by swinging her arms up. A firm kick sent him flying across the alley to hit the opposite wall.  
  
The sound of frightened footsteps filled the alley. Oscar had run. She sighed. So much for scoring some drugs.  
  
As she reached down to rustle through Spike's pockets to grab her stake, the two vampires had regrouped.  
  
The taller one approached from behind while his ballcap-wearing partner attacked from the front. Buffy needed only a quick step to the side to send them colliding into each other.  
  
Not the brightest of demons. Probably why they preyed on druggies.  
  
Buffy grabbed the back of Ballcap's shirt and tossed him against the building. She drew her arm back to stake him, but Tall Guy snatched her elbow and twisted her around. He went straight for the bite, greasy hair falling into her mouth as he tried to gnaw at her throat.  
  
She wanted to retch. She punched him in the temple. He staggered. She plunged her stake into his chest.  
  
By that point, Ballcap had recovered. Buffy didn't waste time. Withdrawing her stake before Tall Guy even dusted, she swiveled to face Ballcap. He looked terrified.  
  
Good.  
  
Buffy used his hesitation. She grabbed his arm and swung him back against the wall. He collided face-first into the brick. She ripped his stupid ballcap off and gripped her fingers in his hair. Then she pummeled his face into the wall again.  
  
And again.  
  
She repeated until the body stilled.  
  
But she knew the threat was still there, so she kept beating his dead head into the bricks. Speckled drops of foul blood rebounded onto her arms and neck.  
  
She finally stopped when her hands started shaking too much to continue. The body collapsed against the wall, pulpy flesh where the face had been.  
  
Buffy sat down next to it. Her stomach wrenched. She turned away to expel the taste of Oscar from her gut.  
  
When she was finished, she staked the faceless vampire. The body exploded.  
  
Great. Now she was covered in vampire dust.  
  
****  
  
Avery lay face down with Spike on her back. Her legs sprawled in front of him, one badly broken with white bone showing through at the knee. Spike ignored that leg. The pain from the fracture would overcome anything else he could do to it. Instead, he set his attention on her other leg. Her foot.  
  
He snatched it toward him and pressed the red-hot poker to the sole. Burning flesh hissed.  
  
Still no scream from her. He hadn't expected one so soon.  
  
Spike put the poker down and fetched one of the small metal needles he'd found while gathering supplies. With gentle care that Angelus would be proud of, Spike stroked Avery's foot, avoiding the burn. Her breath came out in harsh rasps.  
  
He was glad he couldn't see her face. Only her legs. It made it more impersonal. Easier to ignore what he was doing. He wasn't enjoying this. It was necessary, though, and the soul screaming inside him could shut the fuck up about it.  
  
Spike grabbed her foot again. Holding it tight, he pushed back the fleshy skin behind her toenail. Then he stabbed the needle behind the nail.  
  
She jumped. Her leg flew out of his hand and her foot hit the floor. He knew that would only make things worse for her. A high-pitched, muffled shriek almost escaped from her.  
  
Watching on, Dehevret and Ugvan chuckled.  
  
"You have some talents," Dehevret said approvingly.  
  
Spike gave him a smirk he didn't quite feel. Grabbing at Avery's foot again, he shoved the needle further in.  
  
"Fucking bastard!" Avery spit out from beneath him.  
  
Spike turned, pressing his full body down against her and holding her head to the ground.  
  
"Hush now, pet. Know you're just jealous I was fucking Buffy and not you."  
  
Avery pushed her upper body up enough to twist herself around and spit in his face.  
  
Ugvan cackled.  
  
Spike couldn't let that go without punishment. It would show him as weak in front of Dehevret. Fucking bitch had to make everything difficult, didn't she? Would be easier on both of them if she stopped fighting back and gave a scream or two.  
  
Spike stood and wiped his face. Without his weight on top of her, Avery curled in on herself as best she could with a broken knee and a tortured foot.   
  
He pulled her to a standing position and turned her for display to the two demons. He held her against him, her back to his front. He had to support her weight as she couldn't do it on her own. He gripped her by the throat.  
  
"Spit all you like, luv," Spike stage-whispered. "Not gonna change who's calling the shots here."  
  
He shoved her down so she fell on all fours. Well, on threes. One leg was still useless.  
  
Before she could attempt to stand back up, he knelt down and pressed a hand at her back to keep her down.  
  
"You're such a tough chick," Spike said. "Keep yourself up. If your arms give out, I'm gonna give you a red-hot fucking with that poker."  
  
He told the soul he didn't mean it, but the soul didn't care.   
  
He patted her cheek and reached for the poker again. He brought it to the bottom of her foot, right above the earlier burn mark.  
  
Avery dropped a couple inches. Her head fell forward and she made a straining noise through her teeth.  
  
Spike was interrupted from his next act as a page entered. The torture paused as a message was handed to Dehevret. The demon page didn't even spare a second glance for the human on the ground, nor for Spike kneeling behind her.   
  
The soul must have settled in his stomach. It sat there, heavy, churning, making him nauseous. In front of him, Avery's arms shook a vibrato as she struggled to support her weight.  
  
Dehevret relayed instructions to the page. The opening of the tent flapped in the evening breeze. Spike's attention zoomed to the thin wedge of the outdoors he could see.   
  
Why wasn't this fun? It should be fun. He was a fucking demon. The soul didn't change that.   
  
Demons get off on the pain, the torture. They don't get upset stomachs at it.  
  
What was wrong with him?  
  
His demon should have thrived in this world. It was the point, wasn't it? No Slayer, no limits. Only the bloodlust and rage.  
  
That's not what had happened, though. Instead, isolation. Despair. Loneliness. A world overrun with demons meant that humans were a rarity and vampires reviled. Instead of being able to revel in his demon urges, Spike had had to lay low and repress to survive. Alone. The only true companionship he'd had in five years had been with a human.   
  
Buffy. She'd changed him more than the bloody soul.   
  
Not for the best, though, was it? After all, he wouldn't even have this broken woman laid out in front of him if he weren't trying to get back to Buffy. She provided the motivation and the punishment.  
  
Fucking bitch.  
  
When the page exited, Spike's concentration was broken. He turned his head to see Dehevret watching him again. Waiting for the show to start back up. Avery's torso had lowered, her chest nearly touching the ground. Her elbows looked a feather-touch away from giving out.  
  
No help for it. Whatever changes he'd gone through, whatever his demon felt, this was necessary. Anyone could see that. Spike couldn't back out now.  
  
Spike called on every 'lesson' Angelus had given him. Every methodical bit of torture in his seldom-used repertoire. All of the needles he found were used, buried deep behind Avery's toenails, so he switched to more of the hot poker. There was blood. A lot of blood. Spike's nose tingled, and bloodlust fought the sickness he felt inside.  
  
There it was. A tiny thrill. Somehow, it made things worse.   
  
Dinner came, and Dehevret and Ugvan ate off trays as if they were watching TV.  
  
Finally, when Spike introduced the poker to the fleshy tissue between Avery's fingers, she screamed. It was a withered scream of concession. She'd given up.   
  
Spike should have felt a triumph, but he only felt as shaky as Avery looked. There was no pride to be found.  
  
Spike stood and stepped away from his victim. Dehevret motioned for one of his guards to come forward.  
  
"Have the human taken to Ugvan's tent," he ordered. He turned to his neighbor. "A small present for you, Ugvan."  
  
"Delicious," Ugvan replied.   
  
Spike watched the guards drag Avery's broken body from the tent. One gripping an arm on each side. Her legs hung uselessly to the ground.   
  
After their departure, Ugvan retired to his own tent, leaving Dehevret and Spike alone together.   
  
"You're very talented," Dehevret said.  
  
Spike swallowed down the protestations of the soul inside him. He nodded instead. He didn't trust his voice.  
  
"Would you like Buffy?"  
  
Spike's head snapped up. "What?"  
  
"In exchange for your help. When we cross over and defeat this Slayer, you can have her to do with as you will." Dehevret grinned. "I'm sure you can think of some uses for her."  
  
Right, he was mad at Buffy. Mad enough to torture her. Make her scream. Then take her to his tent for an evening or forever.  
  
"You are very generous," he said, trying to make it sound convincing.  
  
"So," Dehevret leaned back, indicating that Spike should take the seat that Ugvan had occupied. "Tell me what we should expect when we cross over."  
  
****  
  
Back at the cemetery. Back where the portal would appear. Somehow, it felt better than going home.  
  
Buffy startled when she heard footsteps behind her, but she stilled when she realized who it was.  
  
"Giles?"  
  
She didn't know how to react to him. He'd been present at the scene this morning, but he hadn't said anything. He hadn't judged her, but he hadn't stood up for her either.   
  
Giles took a place beside her and held out a pack of cigarettes.  
  
Buffy frowned. "Will it help?"  
  
"I've no idea."  
  
She took one. Mimicking Spike's habits, she stuck it at the corner of her mouth and leaned forward as Giles produced a lighter.  
  
The acrid smoke burned as she inhaled. It had the faint sensation of familiarity. It would do.  
  
"I think Willow and Xander, good as their intentions may be, are reacting poorly to your situation," Giles said.  
  
Buffy carefully flicked the ash from the end of her cigarette, the small gesture covering for the tears that welled in her eyes.   
  
"What happened to you is none of my business," Giles continued. "However, I assure you - as a friend - you have my word of discretion should you choose to confide in me."  
  
Buffy nodded. "Right." She couldn't think of any other words to say.  
  
With that, the air was cleared, filled only with cigarette smoke. Giles motioned toward the portal area, "Wonder what's keeping our unknown demon from making the trip back over."  
  
Buffy shrugged. "Maybe he saw the brochures and changed his mind?"  
  
"Yes, I can't imagine the Zagat's guide recommends it too strongly. O course, it might also be the Slayer sitting out every night keeping watch over it."  
  
"What are you saying?"  
  
"I'm wondering if a change in strategy may be prudent once we get the orb of Thesulah. For now, your presence appears to be deterring our would-be world-crosser from carrying out the ritual. We won't want that deterrence for long, however."  
  
"Right. Cause we need him to do the ritual so we can piggy-back on with our spell," Buffy finished Giles' thought.  
  
"Precisely."  
  
Buffy sighed, smoke riding on her breath. "So how do we monitor the area without letting him _know_ we're monitoring the area?"  
  
"That is something for us to consider." He sighed and shuffled his feet. "I'm reluctant to broach the topic, but I feel I must let you know that I have some concerns."  
  
"About?"  
  
"The spell Willow is planning on doing to bring Spike over...it will have the same stipulation that Angel's had. Spike's soul wouldn't be anchored. A simple moment of happiness would unroot it."  
  
She nodded, quickly seeing where he was going. "And Lord only knows what would qualify as a perfect moment of happiness for him." Being able to watch a soccer game, a really good plate of wings at The Bronze, a mid-day masturbation session. All would probably qualify.  
  
"You told me earlier that his chip is gone," Giles said.  
  
Buffy stared at the end of the cigarette as the paper burned into ash.   
  
"I'm not trying to dissuade you from your goal, Buffy. I'm merely being cautious about the situation into which we're about to be thrust. A Spike with only a precarious hold on his soul, without a chip..." Giles shook his head. "I'm sure you don't need me to lecture you on the dangers of soulless creatures after where you've been for the past years."  
  
She tensed. Dangers. Spike without a soul had loved her once. Now, with a soul, he didn't. Maybe - this was a stupid thought - maybe he'd love her again if he went back to being soulless.  
  
Maybe it took a soulless creature to love her. Not just now, because of all the...things that had happened. But before, too. Because she was the Slayer.  
  
Oh, Angel had loved her. Not enough, though. His love had left along with his soul. Other people's love for her was never anchored. It always left.  
  
Giles was expecting an answer. He was worried about other people, but Buffy couldn't stop thinking of Spike and herself because they were the only two people Buffy cared about now. Especially after that fiasco at the Magic Box earlier.  
  
Buffy attempted to look certain. She threw down her cigarette butt. "I'm ready for that."  
  
Well, it wasn't a lie.  
  
_tbc..._


	15. How Things Were; How Things Will Be

Giles had insisted on making tea first.  
  
Buffy sat with bouncing knees as she waited for him to return from his small kitchen. She didn't wait well these days. She'd adopted the smoking habit, but it only barely kept her away from Speedy's. She was relying on simple willpower and distraction techniques to get her through the ceaseless cravings.  
  
She'd taken the money she hadn't used on coke and bought a number of jigsaw puzzles along with a yo-yo. The jigsaw puzzles kept her occupied in her room so she wasn't in danger of running into any of the people she didn't want to run into. It also kept her hands busy enough to convince the rest of her body that it wasn't a good time for drugs. The yo-yo served a similar purpose for those rare times when she wasn't in her room. Usually, that meant she was in the cemetery. On this occasion, it meant she was at Giles'.  
  
"Cheers," Giles said. He handed her a teacup of fragrant liquid.  
  
"Thanks. So it's here?" Buffy thrust the cup onto the coffee table next to the yo-yo and perched forward.   
  
Giles nodded mid-sip and held up one finger. He grimaced. "Mmm...I don't think I let that steep long enough."  
  
"I think it's fine."   
  
"You haven't even tried yours," Giles protested.  
  
"Giles, please," Buffy snapped. "Can we just...get to business?"  
  
He sighed, lowering his cup. "Buffy, the orb will still be there after we exchange some pleasantries. I thought that you might like some calm."  
  
She'd started to hate arrogant assumption that he _knew_ exactly what she needed. He didn't.   
  
"Fine." Buffy put her hands up. "Fine. Okay." She snatched her cup and swallowed a tiny amount before placing it back on the table. "I know! I know I'm on edge. I'm just...I need to do _something_." She outstretched her fingers in a frantic imitation of jazz hands. "You know?"  
  
"I have some idea," Giles smiled sadly. Buffy wanted to yell that he had no idea, but she remained quiet. Anything to get him to show her the fucking orb.   
  
He set aside his tea and reached for the shipping box set atop the bar. With the care and precision of a librarian, he sliced the shipping tape and opened the package.   
  
"The orb of Thesulah," Buffy said. She watched as Giles extracted the globe from the packing material. Okay, so it looked like a cheap glass ball. She knew better. One of these had restored Angel's soul years ago, and now it would restore Spike's.  
  
"Doesn't look too impressive," she said with a shrug.  
  
"Well, it is just the container." Giles said. He handed it to Buffy, who hefted the weight.  
  
"So now..."  
  
"Now, tonight, we let the demon do the ritual."  
  
Buffy nodded.  
  
She'd been steadfastly avoiding her friends ever since the confrontation in the Magic Box. Avoidance was easier for everyone. At first she'd been okay with all of the avoiding going on. No conflict, no stress, no anxiety, no fears. All Buffy had to worry about were demons in the cemetery and jigsaw puzzles that refused to come together.  
  
Now, though, the isolation was starting to hurt. Potential conflict or no, she missed the connection with the others. It spurred a longing deep inside her, so deep she hadn't realized it was there during her five year long banishment in the other world.   
  
How to have that connection without the pain of judgment, though? Buffy's heart squeezed to think of it.  
  
Coming back was supposed to fix things. Except it seemed as if everything was an even bigger mess now. When she wasn't sleeping, she was slaying and living the life of a recluse. Every second, she itched to have more cocaine and every second after she'd have to tell herself she couldn't have it. She didn't know when this would end. If it would end. How to deal with this _and_ her friends.  
  
She wanted to go back to how things were in that faraway time before she'd fallen through the portal into the other world, but she didn't know how. All she could do, all she could think, was to get this mission done and get Spike back.   
  
Giles spoke, breaking her reverie, "We should meet with the others this afternoon at the shop."  
  
Buffy nodded. "Yeah."  
  
That was a frightening prospect. Buffy would rather face down all the vampires in the graveyard than see her friends again. Not because she was mad at them anymore but because she needed them to accept her back. So much. And if they didn't...if they couldn't...  
  
"We're going to need their help."  
  
"I know," she said. "It's okay. I'll go."  
  
Giles put a comforting hand on her shoulder.   
  
****  
  
The ring of the bell signaled their entrance. Giles walked in front with Buffy bringing up the rear.  
  
A good position to be in if she was going to run away.  
  
But she wasn't.   
  
She wasn't.  
  
Buffy let the door swing close behind her. Giles blocked her view of the rest of the shop. She willed him to stay in place a little longer, but he moved, revealing her to the scrutiny of her friends that she'd walked out on days ago.  
  
"Um...hey," she said by way of acknowledgement.  
  
Giles placed the orb on the counter. Buffy felt naked without his presence by her side.  
  
She'd had nightmares about this moment and all the ways it could go wrong. They'd start interrogating her about her time on the other side or Anya would have a humorous sketch of Buffy fucking a demon or they would take turns spitting on her to show their disgust.  
  
"We think tonight's the night," she said, bypassing any of the awkward personal discussion. Better to get straight to the business at hand. Avoid all the sketches and spitting. "Are you ready, Willow?"  
  
Willow looked surprised at being addressed so directly. She glanced at her girlfriend before meeting Buffy's eyes and nodding.  
  
"Definitely. I've been going over the spell and making sure I have everything down."  
  
"Good," Buffy replied. "Because we need the spell done quickly. We can't let the portal stay open too long. When it's open, the chances of the device going through it and cracking an open corridor between the dimensions go up. We can't let that happen."  
  
"So what's the plan?" Xander spoke up.  
  
Buffy knew she was asking a lot of them. They risked their lives for her in the past. They were now going to risk their lives for Spike, a demon that even she wasn't sure she could trust. Hell, they were going to risk their _world_ for Spike. Of course they'd been confused. Of course they'd appealed to the group for help.  
  
She'd walked out on them, but they were still willing to help her, without reservations. When Buffy outlined the plan, no one questioned it, her leadership, or her.   
  
It was familiar. She hadn't enjoyed this confidence in her ability for a long time.   
  
Giles remained quiet throughout, standing by the register and staring down at his feet. Buffy knew what he was doing. He was letting her take charge so as to show her that she could..  
  
She was grateful to him.  
  
She was grateful to her friends.  
  
She still wanted to run and hide from them.  
  
When Buffy finished laying out the plan, a silence fell over the group. Their usual chatter was absent. Buffy rubbed the edge of Spike's coat in a nervous gesture.  
  
She didn't need their approval, but she did. She waited for a sign that they were on board. That they would help her get Spike back and seal away that cursed world.  
  
She'd had a lot of time to think these past few days during her solitude. As the one thousand piece jigsaw puzzle depicting a sleeping kitten came together, she thought about herself, her friends, her past, and her future. She sat in the middle, not who she used to be and not sure of who she would be tomorrow.  
  
Her friends wanted her to be the old Buffy - the one they knew before. She was familiar and reliable. She was the stalwart soldier who fought the monsters.   
  
Buffy wanted to be that Buffy, too. She wanted to be unburdened and young - so young. She wanted her system pure and unfettered by drugs. She wanted her conscious clear of the knowledge of how to please Graykkre demons. She wanted to be focused on her mission while still caring about her friends and family. She wanted to be everything she used to be and cast off everything she had gained in the other world.  
  
She needed it. If they'd accept her back, if they'd believe in her, maybe she could believe in herself.  
  
Maybe she'd be Buffy again.  
  
****  
  
Buffy watched as Willow stood atop the plastic chair. Her friend's head was lifted to peer at the wires streaming out of the camera. The wind blew slightly, teasing at their hair.  
  
The chair wobbled. Buffy grabbed the back as Willow yelped.  
  
"Uh...thanks," Willow said, wide-eyed.   
  
"No problem." Buffy kept a hand on the chair to stabilize it.  
  
They stood in silence as Willow continued to mess with the wires. With a cavalier attitude that Buffy didn't quite feel, she drew the yo-yo from her pocket and started yo-yoing with her free hand.  
  
Willow spoke up: "I had nightmares about what you went through."  
  
Buffy tensed but didn't respond. The plastic yo-yo slicked down the string only to bounce right back up.  
  
"I guess that's selfish, right? Cause, like, that's what _you_ went through. But I just...it hurt to hear you went through that."  
  
When Buffy looked up, Willow was stubbornly keeping her gaze on the electronics. To Buffy's untrained eye, her friend didn't look to actually be _doing_ anything, though.  
  
Buffy looked back down to the yo-yo. It had stopped at the bottom. "It hurt to go through," she said softly. It felt like a confession.  
  
The pretense of the conversation made it easier than the Very Special Talk she'd tried to have with Willow earlier in her bedroom. Now they were simply two friends, chatting while Willow got the camera working. Old friends.  
  
Like how things used to be.  
  
Buffy exhaled a nervous breath. She tossed the yo-yo up and jammed it back in her pocket. "I didn't want to come back at first. Spike had to..._persuade_ me."  
  
Willow shifted her feet. Buffy held the chair more tightly.  
  
"You were afraid of us?"  
  
"I was comfortable where I was."  
  
This time Willow looked down at her in shock. "When you were...you know?"  
  
"In the brothel?" Buffy nodded. "I'd been there for years." She shrugged. "You can get used to almost anything after a while. And the drugs...well, they didn't hurt, either."  
  
Willow looked upset but she turned back to the camera.   
  
Buffy wanted to explain this because if she could get Willow to understand, then maybe she could get back to how things were.   
  
"When I was fifteen, I became the Slayer. Soon, 'normal' became late nights slaying vampires and hidden laundry cycles to get the blood out of my clothes. It's horrifying, I guess, but I got used to it." Buffy considered the row of toy vending machines outside the Magic Box. "Then I ended up over _there_. My powers were taken away and I was forced into prostitution. So then 'normal' became naked demons and free coke."  
  
"That's horrible."  
  
"I guess so." Buffy shrugged.  
  
"I'm so sorry," Willow's voice was wobbly like the chair she stood on.  
  
"I don't want that," Buffy snapped. "I don't want those hangdog expressions. I just want..."  
  
"The old 'normal'?"  
  
"Yeah." Relief. Willow got it.  
  
"Maybe...maybe tonight, while we're keeping a lookout, we could...I dunno, have a movie night at your place? Or would that be...too much?"  
  
Buffy closed her eyes. "It'd be perfect."  
  
****  
  
In deference to Buffy who hadn't seen any movies for five years, everybody had acquiesced to the ice skating movie, _Ice Castles_, she had picked out from the rental store.  
  
Buffy felt a chill of distance as she sat on the couch, pre-movie preparations going on around her. Popcorn was made, blankets were gathered, soda was poured, seating arrangements were negotiated.  
  
This was normal.   
  
She wasn't close to it, though it surrounded her. She knew she should be drawing comfort from the familiarity, but she only felt the harsh cut of solitude.  
  
She ended up sitting next to Willow. Buffy leaned toward the armrest, though, while Willow leaned towards Tara, who sat on her other side. Giles had gotten the chair, of course. Xander and Anya cuddled up to each other on the floor.  
  
Willow kept the laptop open on the coffee table in front of her. The monitor streamed the video feed of the cemetery in the distance. If there were any demonic revelers out tonight, they'd be able to spot them.  
  
"Will it have a happy ending?" Anya asked. "I don't think we should watch a movie with an unhappy ending right before a demon invasion."  
  
"Do ice skating movies ever have unhappy endings?" Xander asked in response.  
  
"I think Buffy's the expert, there," Willow said, making a stilted effort to include the Slayer.  
  
Buffy hesitated. She talked to them through a telescope lens. "Uh..." she said. "I don't remember. I think they're usually happy."  
  
After a pause, Xander picked up the conversation. "Except for that Freddy Krueger ice skating movie. _That_ one was a bit on the sad side."  
  
Joyce appeared at the doorway, "Do you guys need anything? I'm about to shut myself away to work on some expense reports."  
  
A chorus of 'No's' sounded through the room.  
  
Joyce looked to Buffy. "Buffy? A word?"  
  
The trailers were playing. Buffy stood and trekked to the entryway where her mother waited. She was nervous. She'd been avoiding her mother ever since her return. It was easier to wall herself off than to risk the pain of judgment and rejection that may come from her loved ones. She knew the potential pain of her mother's reaction would hurt most of all.  
  
"The big mission's tonight?" Joyce asked casually. She gripped her hands together, though, belying her concern.  
  
Buffy nodded. She wanted to run back into the den. Or her room. Or anywhere else.  
  
"Well, I haven't seen you much these past couple days. I guess you've been making preparations, so I'm trying not to do the mom thing. But I haven't had a chance to let you know," Joyce ran a hand through Buffy's hair. "Your new haircut looks beautiful." She paused. "_You_ look beautiful."  
  
It wasn't a phrase Buffy had heard a lot - at all - lately. She didn't know if she believed it. Moms always say that stuff, even when it's not true.  
  
But it meant something that it was said.  
  
Maybe she didn't have to wall herself off quite so much.  
  
She drew her mother into a firm hug, closing her eyes in the sanctuary of her arms. New walls. Better walls. With doors that she could open for certain people.   
  
When they pulled apart, Joyce smiled. "Be careful tonight."  
  
"I will," Buffy promised.  
  
As her mother left, Buffy returned to the discomfort of the living room. No walls here.  
  
"Good timing!" Willow said. "The trailers just finished."  
  
"Oh, but you missed the preview about the clumsy dog movie," Tara added.  
  
"Somehow, I think I'll live," Buffy said. She took her place beside Willow as the opening credits played over video of a young girl gliding across the ice.  
  
Dawn appeared at the entrance to the living room. Her arms were crossed, her expression unsure.  
  
"Hey, Dawnster!" Xander said in greeting.  
  
Dawn looked at Buffy apprehensively. "I finished my homework for the night."  
  
"Oh. Good." Buffy wasn't sure what type of response that required.  
  
Dawn looked at the screen before looking back at Buffy. "Can I watch the movie with you?"  
  
Buffy nodded. "Sure."  
  
Dawn joined the group and sat on the floor in front of Buffy.  
  
The movie never stood a chance of holding Buffy's attention.  
  
Her sister, right in front of her. Dawn's shoulder almost touched Buffy's leg. Every tiny movement Dawn made sent a shock of panic through Buffy. Her little sister, the young girl she now had to protect from a hellgod. Buffy didn't want to touch her.  
  
Buffy wanted to hold her tightly.  
  
She wanted to run away.  
  
Was anybody else even paying attention to the stupid movie?   
  
Buffy's eyes drifted, instead, to the laptop. She willed the demons to come out. She wanted the certainty of the fight over this prolonged social trial.  
  
She'd been an idiot to think this would be a pleasant evening. What? Have a happy group movie night and everything's better?   
  
The room grew too small. Buffy couldn't breathe for the people surrounding her.   
  
"I'm going to have a smoke," she whispered to Willow as she stood.  
  
Willow looked surprised. "We can pause it."  
  
Buffy shook her head. "Don't worry. I've seen it before."  
  
Buffy took advantage of the escape hatch and fled out the front door. She pulled out her pack of cigarettes with a shaky hand.  
  
Why couldn't this be easier?  
  
She relaxed only slightly when the tobacco hit her lungs. She leaned against the railing of the front porch and stared without focus into the night. This had been a horrible idea. Part of her hated Willow for even suggesting it, but a larger part of her hated herself for going along.   
  
This wasn't a sitcom where things got resolved at the end of the episode. She wasn't who she was before. She couldn't be. She'd known this from the start, but she didn't know how to move forward as she was. After all she'd seen, done, been subjected to. How could she sit with her younger friends and happily watch a fucking ice skating movie?  
  
She wasn't nineteen. She wasn't even twenty-four. She was older and more worn than anybody else in that fucking house.   
  
She didn't turn when she heard the front door open and close behind her. Of course, Giles would come to check on her. She didn't want him to. Not even he could get what she'd been through. She didn't want his quiet support right now. His unknowing attempts to relate. He didn't know shit.  
  
When she turned, she was surprised to see Dawn.  
  
"What?" Buffy asked.  
  
"Can I smoke?" Dawn asked.  
  
Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Are you serious?"  
  
Dawn shrugged. "You're doing it."  
  
"I also stick wooden stakes through vampires' hearts. You're not doing that, either."  
  
"Fine." Dawn rolled her eyes. "But you know you're a bad influence."  
  
Buffy turned back to the street. "I know."  
  
Dawn wasn't really her sister. Monks had created her. She was some magical _thing_. Something nobody else could understand, forced into a human form that mimicked the DNA of Buffy and Joyce. Why was Buffy so frightened of her?   
  
"Do I get to know what the deal is tonight?"  
  
She should be closer to Dawn. Buffy's epiphany was tiny but substantial. Dawn was like her but ignorant of it. Buffy had a new resolve.  
  
"I've been in an alternate dimension for the past five years."  
  
Dawn raised her eyebrows, surprised but trying to cover. "Is that why you didn't do your share of the chores?"  
  
Buffy grinned. She enjoyed Dawn's irreverence. "Time worked differently. It's...well," she sighed. The portal was such a bitch to explain. She wished she had a printed notecard or something she could hand out when people asked. She did the best she could.  
  
"And Spike's still over there?" Dawn asked when Buffy finished her exposition.  
  
"Spike's still over there."  
  
"Oh." Dawn took a place beside Buffy and laid her elbows along the porch railing. "That's the big secret?"  
  
Buffy shook her head. She braced herself for the conversation to come. She didn't look forward to it.   
  
No, she did look forward to it. But she hated herself for it.  
  
"I did some bad things over there."  
  
"Did you kill a man?" Dawn asked without pause.  
  
"Dawn! Of course not!"  
  
Dawn shrugged. "Well, it can't be _that_ bad." She frowned and shifted her feet in indecision. "I shoplifted some lipstick from Claire's once."  
  
"What?" Non-sequitur? Buffy feared that she'd lost the conversation.  
  
"So I've done bad stuff too."  
  
Buffy couldn't help but smile at her sister. So young. She sighed. "I did drugs, Dawnie." She looked sideways at Dawn. "Cocaine. It's a hard thing to shake."  
  
Dawn's eyes went wide. "Oh," she said. "But...why would you - "  
  
"There were other things going on," Buffy said, hoping to put off that part of the discussion. Now wasn't the time.   
  
An unknown. The Key. Buffy didn't know its origin, its appeal to Glory, its function. It was a mystery. Her sister was a mystery. Buffy could dive in, lose herself, connect herself to the Key in a way she couldn't with any of the humans inside her house right now.  
  
And Spike. Buffy hadn't forgotten him. She and him, side by side, facing down Glory with the Key in their protection. It wasn't who she used to be, but she was new. She was different. The monks had created Dawn as an innocent, and Buffy had emerged from the portal as the exact opposite. Buffy needed Dawn. For balance. For purpose.   
  
"Dawn," Buffy threw the cigarette away and took her sister's hands.. "I have to tell you some stuff. About things I did. And then I want to tell you some stuff...about you. Now's not the time, but after. After the mission tonight, you and me - and mom - we're all gonna talk, okay?"  
  
Dawn looked surprised. Relieved, curious, and scared all at the same time. "Okay," she said quietly. She tensed before taking her hands away. "Should we go back to the movie?"  
  
Buffy was about to agree when Xander poked his head out of the front door.  
  
"Buff! Demon sighting in the cemetery. We're suiting up."  
  
Buffy nodded and gave an apologetic smile to her sister. "Later," she promised.  
  
_tbc..._


	16. Battles

When Buffy entered the house, she had to side-step the frenzy of pre-mission activity. Weapons were being handed out according to each person's preference. Buffy had called claim to the sturdy axe Giles kept in his collection. She was in a chopping mood. _   
  
_ Anya chose to wield a baseball bat. Not the most lethal of weapons, but it would work. Ordinarily, Buffy wouldn't want Anya around in combat, but they were facing a large number of foes, as indicated by the video feed. They needed all the numbers on their side that they could get. _   
  
_ Xander and Giles both took up stakes and crosses. While there were a few demons in the mix, most of the group in the cemetery appeared to be vampires. _   
  
_ Buffy suited up, grabbing Spike's coat. _   
  
_ Willow and Tara were laying out the preparations for the spell. They'd stay here, safe and out of the way of the battle. Dawn was quickly ushered up to bed, though she didn't seem to mind in this case. _   
  
_ Buffy put thoughts of 'normal' and Keys and future out of her head during the walk to the cemetery. The others were blessedly quiet. Buffy could imagine they weren't even there. _   
  
_ She entered the cemetery with Xander, Giles, and Anya. The chanting could be heard from the sidewalk. Buffy signaled to her companions to split up. Anya went with Xander to the left while Giles took the right. _   
  
_ The required drugs of the portal ritual would leave the demons easy prey. Buffy remembered how disoriented the drugs had left her. Wholly different from the coke she was used to. She hadn't had any actual  _hallucinations _ from the hallucinogen, but it had rearranged her world for a short period of time. The haze of the experience had left her vulnerable when Dehevret's army had attacked. _   
  
_ Well, this time, she had the advantage. No drugs in her system. Clean Buffy. _   
  
_ Buffy approached the circle slowly, aware that sudden movements may draw attention. Her axe was already at ready, prepared to strike. _   
  
_ There were sixteen individuals - twelve vampires, four demons - all on their knees, centered around the spot where the portal was to appear. They had the requisite blood smeared on their faces. She remembered this, not only from her own experience having done the ritual, but from that time five years ago when she'd interrupted the first ritual with Spike. _   
  
_ The more they could knock out with the first strike, the better. First, though, she had to ensure that the portal would open. Otherwise, Spike wouldn't be able to come back. _   
  
_ She scanned the crowd for any sign of the magical whatsit that would split the portal open. The robes the demons wore weren't helping, there. Any one of them could easily hide a magic item from easy view. The only way she'd be able to find it was by waiting to see it as the demon went through the portal. And then, of course, it would be too late. _   
  
_ She wouldn't allow that. _   
  
_ The first small flickers of light formed in the middle of the circle. The portal was appearing. _   
  
_ At that moment, Buffy felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned, expecting to see one of her teammates. _   
  
_ It was a vampire. _   
  
_ A fist flew at her. Buffy ducked. So the demons had set up sentries. Smart demons. Not so good for her side. _   
  
_ Buffy turned the duck into a fluid side-step, throwing a punch to the side of the vampire in front of her. The creature hissed and pivoted to face her. _   
  
_ Beyond her field of vision, Buffy heard her friends fighting. They couldn't waste time with these sentries. Buffy swung her axe, hoping to dispatch of the guard vampire quickly. He stepped backward and jabbed at Buffy's side, taking advantage of her having to step into the swing. _   
  
_ She compensated and spun around, using the handle of the axe to sweep the vampire's feet out from under him. He fell to the ground. Buffy dropped the axe and drew a stake, stabbing it into the heart. _   
  
_ Finally dispatching of the sentry, Buffy turned again to the portal. The demons were snapping out of their drug fugue. Soon, they'd be making a beeline to the portal. _   
  
_ Buffy charged. Now or never, after all. _   
  
_ One demon was beheaded before the group caught on to what was going on. Buffy kicked its body over, quickly looking for the portal-breaking doodad. Nothing immediately apparent. She didn't have time for a more thorough inspection, however, as the demons had turned to her. _   
  
_ Carefully avoiding falling into the portal, herself, Buffy took up a stance in front of it, axe at ready. One of the demons rushed her on shaky legs. It roared. Buffy swung her axe and chopped, only to have her blade bounce back out at the dense mass of muscle just below the skin. Great. One of  _those _ demons. _   
  
_ Buffy kicked, sending the demon soaring backwards. That would buy her some time. _   
  
_ Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Giles enter the fray. He looked to be uninjured, and he was making his way to the portal, as well, to guard it alongside Buffy. _   
  
_ Good. The more people the better. This crowd of demons was swiftly getting rowdy. _   
  
_ A new demon made a hacking noise at her, something Buffy could only interpret as a battle cry. It wasn't very threatening, but it heralded its charge at her. When she swung her axe, it ducked, wrapping its arms around her legs and sending her flying backwards. The weight of the demon kept her pinned momentarily, and she took a couple punches to the face before she regained her composure. _   
  
_ She jabbed the butt of the axe into the demon's stomach. Then she delivered a harsh knee to the groin. The creature howled and fell back. She kicked it the rest of the way off her and flipped to her feet. She shifted her grip on the axe to deliver the final blow, bringing the blade down on the head of the beast. _   
  
_ A solid strike. She swung the blade up and behind her to take out the vampire there, as well. Trying to be sneaky. She wouldn't fall for that. _   
  
_ But she would fall for the other demon - the muscle-bound one - that appeared on her left and snatched the axe from her hand. Buffy drew her stake, not deterred by the loss of her primary weapon. _   
  
_ Xander and Anya soon joined the central fight. Buffy eyed the portal nervously. How long would it stay open? Had Willow's spell gone correctly? Why hadn't Spike crossed through yet? The fight before her with the demons seemed routine in the face of such questions. _   
  
_ Muscle swung the axe at her. Though the guy was bulk personified, he didn't move too fast. Of course, if he got a good blow on her, he wouldn't need to. Buffy ducked and swooped around behind him. She tried to land a kick to his back, but he didn't budge. Instead, he lumbered around and grabbed her leg. With a yank, he had her off her feet and on her back. _   
  
_ Buffy managed to roll out of the way before Muscle brought the axe down on her. Well, almost. He managed to score a hit to her left arm. It was only a scratch, though, and Buffy shrugged off the wound. She came back to her feet and made a charge under Muscle's axe, grabbing him around the abdomen and bowling him over. _   
  
_ As Muscle fell, Buffy grabbed for the axe. No way would a stake take this guy out. Muscle wasn't giving up the weapon so easily, though. They mimicked a five year old's tug-of-war game for a few seconds before Muscle released the weapon. Unfortunately, his doing so planted the corner of the blade in Buffy's stomach. _   
  
_ "Oof!" Buffy fell backwards, holding her side. It felt like her insides were bleeding out. She winced. _   
  
_ Taking advantage of her distraction, Muscle stood and fetched the blade again, drawing it high to bring down on Buffy. _   
  
_ Buffy closed her eyes. This was not how this was gonna go. She'd been through too fucking much to let some bulge-y  _demon_ get the best of her. _   
  
_ Ignoring the pain in her gut, Buffy hefted her legs to kick up at Muscle's diaphragm. Success. He dropped the axe. In a smooth motion, Buffy flipped to her feet, grabbed the axe in mid-air and sliced at Muscle's chest. _   
  
_ Still not enough to kill the fucker. He stumbled backward, staring in surprise at the slash wound on his torso. Buffy didn't give him the opportunity to regroup. She surged forward, the movement stretching at the axe wound in her side. She buried the axe in Muscle's throat, forcing her muscles to keep holding when they met with resistance. _   
  
_ Muscle roared and swung a clawed hand out to bat Buffy away. She ignored him, all focus on the axe and his throat. Inch by inch, the weapon traveled through hard flesh until finally - finally! - it swung free, leaving a lethal gash.. _   
  
_ Muscle fell over. Buffy almost went with him. As the object of her focus died, her compilation of wounds started screaming in surround sound. Muscle had left her not only with an axe injury but with deep gouges along her neck and arms. _   
  
_ It didn't matter. The blood and scratches didn't matter. Buffy felt centered, in control, undefeated. The air she breathed was earned, and she welcomed it gladly. She closed her eyes to better feel the strength of her body.  _   
  
_ "Buffy!" _   
  
_ Xander cried for help. Buffy didn't have a chance to enjoy the victory. She turned to see Xander and Anya caught between the remaining demon and two vampires. The demon had Xander by the throat and was not at all put off by Anya's pummeling him with the baseball bat. _   
  
_ As she watched, one of the vampires tossed a cloth-covered item to another vampire, who turned to the portal. _   
  
_ Xander could wait. Buffy ran for the portal-bound vamp. _   
  
_ **** _   
  
_ Daylight had seen Spike given his own tent, replete with all the luxuries he'd been lacking in the supply tent. He was a guest now, not a prisoner. _   
  
_ Spike had concocted a wild tale for Dehevret last night. The Slayer had access to the US military and would have weapons beyond what the demon could imagine. Tanks and missiles and flying ponies were at her disposal. She had a direct line to Godzilla, a terrifying monster who could crush whole armies with its lethal stomps. _   
  
_ As such, sending all the troops in at once would be foolhardy. The Slayer would wipe them out immediately. Dehevret would be best sending a small regiment in as a decoy to occupy the Slayer, then follow with a handful of skilled wizards who could neutralize the Slayer's weaponry quietly. _   
  
_ Of course, Spike knew it would never come to this. Buffy would leave him on this side before she let the portal become open for demon business. Still, having Dehevret organize his troops in such a fashion would be in Spike's best interest when it came time for  _him _ to cross over. _   
  
_ By all accounts, that time would be soon. _   
  
_ The day had been long. He'd had little to do other than dozing in the bed he'd been provided. He'd needed something to distract him. Something besides what had  _been _ distracting him the whole day. _   
  
_ It couldn't be guilt, he knew that much. The soul wasn't settled in him enough to make him feel guilt. So why did his stomach ache? _   
  
_ And why did closing his eyes make him  _see _ everything? _   
  
_ It shouldn't matter. He was resolute on this. It had been necessary. Without it, he wouldn't be able to get home. _   
  
_ He had to do it. _   
  
_ He had to. _   
  
_ One hundred years of mayhem and murder and he was getting choked up over one insignificant chit? It was ridiculous. _   
  
_ Demons didn't change. _   
  
_ He didn't change. _   
  
_ When he closed his eyes, he saw her as she finally screamed. Her eyes bled hatred for him. He couldn't blame her. _   
  
_ He had to do it. _   
  
_ At midday, the flap of the tent had opened and a human slave walked in. He carried a tray of food. Not the coarse rabbit Spike had been treated to earlier. Now he was being served fine lamb with seasoned vegetables and a goblet of warm blood. The slave bent to place the tray on a table beside Spike's bed. _   
  
_ "Do you know where Avery is?" Spike asked without thinking as he sat up. _   
  
_ The man flinched and looked behind him as if expecting Spike to have been talking to someone else. After a moment, he spoke with a heavy Mexican accent, "I can bring her to you, if you'd like - " _   
  
_ "No!" Spike startled the man again. "No. She's...is she okay?" _   
  
_ That had the slave confused beyond reason. Probably had been a slave since birth. He knew no courtesy or consideration. The idea of a demon giving a damn about a human was untenable to him. _   
  
_ "She is working." _   
  
_ Spike shook his head. Best to let the man go. He waved a hand in a gesture for the slave to leave. Before he reached the opening of the tent, though, Spike couldn't help but ask, "What's your name?" _   
  
_ The man turned, sunlight falling over his features. "They call me gruñido." _   
  
_ "Right." Spike sighed. "They would." _   
  
_ Gruñido had left. Spike inspected his food. The meal, itself, was unnecessary. He didn't think he could stomach it, anyway. He grabbed the goblet of blood and held it to his nose. _   
  
_ B neg. Human. _   
  
_ He'd grimaced and poured the blood out onto the grass beside him. _   
  
_ He'd spent the rest of the day pacing the roomy tent and waiting for sundown. He itched to get away from this world. Had done for a full five years, but the longing was more pronounced now than ever. No doubt because of how close he was to accomplishing his goal. The fact that he had someone waiting for him on the other side didn't hurt. _   
  
_ It was more, though. This world had been intolerable in its unfamiliarity before. Then it had been an inconvenience. Yes, he'd been able to get his chip removed over here. That should have made him happy. However, the outcome was the same. With the lack of humans, he'd still been relegated to pig's blood. And with a world ruled by demons, he couldn't even blend in with the local population enough to enjoy a spot of pool or drinks at the bar.  _   
  
_ There was nothing to  _do_ . He'd gotten bored. At least his own world would let him go bowling on occasion. _   
  
_ If he wanted to. _   
  
_ So he'd put the effort in to go home. Shoved a soul in himself, found Buffy, made the journey. Buffy was both worse and better than her previous incarnation. Worse: a drug addict. Better: he was able to fuck her. The latter balanced out the former to produce a wild streak of ambivalence in him until she got her powers back. Couldn't fuck her, then, but that somehow made her even better in his estimation. _   
  
_ The demons, though. Ever prevalent and threatening. And who was Spike trying to fool? He was one of them. He knew it. Dehevret knew it. Buffy knew it. He'd proven it last night. He could try to hide himself away for five years and pretend to be harmless to all but pigs, but he wasn't. _   
  
_ He belonged here. _   
  
_ But damned if he was going to stay here. Maybe he was riding on delusions of Buffy loving him, but he would go to the other side and try to earn his keep there, no matter the cost. Cause if this world was where he belonged, then being a demon was surely the lowliest of hells. Put him on the righteous side of Good and give him a fucking blooming onion. _   
  
_ The sun set. When Spike looked outside, Dehevret's troops were forming up around the portal site. Ugvan stood outside his own tent beside Spike's. He looked over as Spike walked into the evening air. _   
  
_ "Ready for the show?" Ugvan asked. He pulled a folding chair from his tent and plopped it open. "I think I have another chair in there, if you want." _   
  
_ Spike shook his head. He looked around. He needed to find an isolated spot to observe the proceedings. Someplace close, though, so he could make a quick dash to the portal when the time came. _   
  
_ "View's shit here," Spike said by way of explanation. _   
  
_ Ugvan bobbed his head but didn't seem at all put out by the tall soldiers blocking his vision. "That's where being a wizard comes in handy, my boy!" He lifted a pair of metal opera glasses to his face. They flickered with the tell-tale signs of magic. Ugvan grinned, showing teeth. "Can see perfectly." _   
  
_ "Right, well, I'll leave you to that." _   
  
_ Spike left, eager to get away from Ugvan.  _   
  
_ Dehevret's men had dug ditches at the edge of the camp for latrines. It was behind the cover of the tents, yet not a long distance from where the portal would appear. Because of the hideous smell, nobody else occupied that area. _   
  
_ Spike staked it out as his spot to wait. _   
  
_ He felt like a right idiot staring at a blank spot of air. However, at least he had the whole army with him. The sun had only recently set, and darkness was still settling over the camp. _   
  
_ Spike would have a small window of time to get through the portal. He wasn't sure what Buffy had planned to make that work. He assumed he would know when it happened. If worse came to worse, he would just take a leap through the portal to see what happened. Maybe she'd had the witches code some special "Spike exception" into the thing. _   
  
_ Whatever it was, he'd get home. _   
  
_ He wished he had snatched a deck of cards or something to keep himself entertained. There was only so much time he could spend bouncing on the balls of his feet without getting hopelessly bored. The stench from the latrines made his situation even worse. _   
  
_ He sighed in relief when the portal cracked open. An opaque blue oval hovered before the army. _   
  
_ Nobody moved. They were waiting for something else. Spike supposed that the breaking of the portal would come with some visual cue. Until then, everybody was expected to hold their position. Dehevret watched calmly from horseback. _   
  
_ Spike held his position. _   
  
_ No wind blew. The camp remained still as if holding its breath in anticipation. It occurred to Spike what a dodgy plan this was for Dehevret. It relied on his people on the other side successfully coming through, something that had failed once before. And yet, the demon goes to the effort of bringing his army all the wait out to this remote region on the chance that he could invade? _   
  
_ The portal effervesced.  _   
  
_ Far more likely for Dehevret to use this as a ploy to gain a foothold in this area of his own dimension. His reach didn't quite extend this far west of Cathela. Maybe Dehevret had a Plan B. Maybe this was the Plan B.  _   
  
_ Maybe it didn't really matter. Spike reminded himself that he didn't give a fuck as long as he made it home. Dehevret could have plans to plant daisies across the country for all Spike could care. _   
  
_ Spike's thoughts aborted. Dirt hit his knees as his legs gave out. Spike clutched his chest, and his eyes closed to the bright portal ahead. Something was being pried from him. _   
  
_ No. _   
  
_ No, it was being  _pushed _ out to make room for something else. _   
  
_ Something bigger. _   
  
_ Something  _his_ . _   
  
_ As his chest ripped open, it dawned on Spike exactly how Buffy was getting him across the portal.  _   
  
_ As that moment of realization passed, Spike forgot. _   
  
_ Everything. _   
  
_ Except that he was very late, the party had gone very poorly - as he'd expected - and his mother had a habit of staying up in anticipation of his arrival home. As such, he couldn't allow himself to be detained by a pickpocket or prostitute or whatever this young lady was. _   
  
_ But the young lady was gone, and there were rock and tents where the alley had been. _   
  
_ William squeezed his eyes shut, knowing there was some knowledge he was missing, but he couldn't ascertain what it might be. _   
  
_ "Spike!" _   
  
_ A voice, familiar and foreign at the same time. When he opened his eyes, another young woman stood before him. Her legs were unsteady, one having been badly mangled. The other looked crippled as well, though not as thoroughly. Bruises marred her face, though stubborn determination adorned her visage underneath. _   
  
_ Avery? _  
  
He'd _ done that. He clawed at his chest where his heart should be. A reflex to fend off the horror of...oh, God, he'd done so much worse. _   
  
_ "Your promise," Avery said. _   
  
_ Promise? He'd promised her something? _   
  
_ Yes, the deal. So he could get through the portal. The portal had been the be all-end all of everything. He'd done everything, given everything, taken everything just to get through it. The evidence was before him. _   
  
_ He should let the damn thing shut without him. A being like him, the things he'd done, he deserved to stay in this world. Demons, all of them. He thought he was above the likes of Dehevret? He merely hid it better.  _   
  
_ The portal had the rights of it. Divide things up: Good and Evil. Good to the good side. Evil to the shit side. It knew what it had been doing when it bounced him back and cast him away from the good side. It knew. He'd rejected it, but it knew and now he knew and now he accepted it. _   
  
_ Avery limped closer to him. "You  _promised_ ." _   
  
_ She looked angry. Of course she did. She was angry. He'd betrayed her, used her, tortured her. He'd known it was wrong. The other soul had told him so. His instincts had told him so. He hadn't cared. _   
  
_ He'd weighed the pros and cons and decided to do it anyway. _   
  
_ Was there a more worthless creature? A creature more worthy of being called "demon"? _   
  
_ Now Avery was asking him to fulfill his one obligation, and he couldn't do it. _   
  
_ Couldn't. _   
  
_ Not with the soul - his soul - wrapping a guillotine around his heart and piercing him with his innumerable crimes of over one hundred years. One more? Too many. It was already too many. How could he take on another? _   
  
_ Avery glanced behind his shoulder. _   
  
_ "Your ride home's about to fizzle," she said. "You better fucking make it all worth it." _   
  
_ "Come with me," he said. It was the only way out his soul would allow him now. Take Avery back to Sunnydale. Get her a nice flat somewhere. Set her up as a fortune-teller at that magic shop Giles had or something.  _   
  
_ Avery looked at him as if he'd gone crazy. "No," she said so matter-of-factly, Spike felt stupid for even having asked. _   
  
_ He wanted to cry in frustration. Maybe he was crying. His body was numb. He couldn't feel his skin or his tears or his grief. Only his guilt bled through to his nerves. _   
  
_ This was wrong. He knew this with a clarity that he'd never been privy to before. _   
  
_ What was one more sin on top of the pile? Is there a point where it didn't matter anymore? _   
  
_ Spike stood to touch Avery's cheek. She didn't flinch, though she should have. "You want it?" he asked. _   
  
_ There was no hesitation on her part. She nodded once and held his gaze. "Yes." _   
  
_ The touch became a firm grip. Spike wrapped his other arm around her head and twisted with sure strength. Her neck snapped, her eyes still open. Her body didn't fall immediately. It hung like a classroom skeleton, bouncing slightly as confused nerves received hollow impulses from a dead brain. Then the body collapsed to crumple at his feet. _   
  
_ Spike held back the sob. _   
  
_ One more sin. Only one more. Didn't matter in the long run. _   
  
_ The portal also hung like a skeleton. It was now or never. Why should he cross back over? This world was hell. Didn't he fit in perfectly? Why should he be granted a reprieve? Didn't make sense. Nothing made sense. _   
  
_ **** _   
  
_ Buffy had the cloth-covered statue in hand, vampire dust falling among the folds of cotton. She breathed a sigh of relief. Now there was just the issue of Spike coming back through. _   
  
_ She looked to the portal, which seemed to be on its last legs. How long would that thing stay open? And where was Spike? _   
  
_ " _Buffy_ !!!" _   
  
_ With a cringe, Buffy remembered that Xander was in trouble. She turned, strangely indifferent. She stuffed the statue into her pocket and raced to her friend and the demon that held him. _   
  
_ Anya had taken out one of the vampires, but the other one had drawn her away from her boyfriend. She wasn't in dire straits, though. Buffy concentrated on the fuzzy demon that kept Xander in a choke-hold. Her friend was going limp. _   
  
_ Buffy stabbed the butt of the axe into the demon's face. The quick attack caused it to release Xander. He fell to the ground. _   
  
_ Buffy raised the axe as the creature staggered backward. She swung and chopped through its veiny neck. _   
  
_ The head fell beside Xander's body. _   
  
_ The force of the swing tore at Buffy's wound. She winced and pushed a hand to her side. _   
  
_ She looked behind her to the portal. She could dive into it, herself, to fetch Spike. _   
  
_ But no. She didn't know where it would spit her out. _   
  
_ She could only stay. And wait. _   
  
_ **** _   
  
_ Spike stared at the hard earth before him, though he didn't see it. Dehevret's army shifted in restlessness. The troops began to grumble and the spear points that had formerly been held erect wavered. Dehevret, himself, frowned and conferred with his lieutenants. And the portal... _   
  
_ The portal was closing. _   
  
_ Spike remained on his knees by Avery's body. He was going to let it close without him. Without his worthless self on the good side. Better that he be over here where the demons were. _   
  
_ Better. _   
  
_ Except that Buffy wanted him over there. She'd engineered this whole thing so that he could cross over. _   
  
_ Spike raised his head. _   
  
_ Couldn't disappoint Buffy. Couldn't let her down. She, who had every reason to hate and fear him as much as any other human,  _wanted _ him with her.  _   
  
_ She was waiting for him. _   
  
_ Hercules' trials were nothing compared to the effort it took Spike to stand. His soul - freshly returned to him - throbbed. All he wanted was to cry out his anguish and curl in on himself. He wanted to rip his own flesh and tear the demon out. He wanted to keep vigil beside Avery's body until the sun came and dusted him. _   
  
_ But more than all of that, he wanted to give Buffy what  _she _ wanted. _   
  
_ This need drove him. His legs, always connected more strongly to his heart than his head, began their dash. Maybe he wouldn't even make it. At least he'd try. _   
  
_ The army didn't react to him until he was twenty yards away. Spike held on to his soul and his hope and his penitence. He'd need all of them. _   
  
_ He heard and ignored the shouts from Dehevret's men. A couple of crossbow shots hit the ground behind his feet. He was too fast for them. _   
  
_ The portal was close. Fifteen yards. _   
  
_ Ten. _   
  
_ Five. _   
  
_ Dehevret blocked his path atop his horse. The horse reared as Spike came to a sudden halt. The portal dwindled. _   
  
_ "I don't abide betrayal, vampire," Dehevret said coolly. _   
  
_ Spike looked up at the demon. So much taller than him. He giggled at the absurdity of Dehevret's words. _   
  
_ "What do you expect from a demon, mate?" he replied. _   
  
_ Dehevret's eyes narrowed. "You won't make it through." _   
  
_ "Listen," Spike spoke quickly. "You've lost, yeah? The portal isn't going to let your little soldier men over. Take your toys, go home. But leave this for me, alright? Please?" _   
  
_ Dehevret studied Spike. It would have been uncomfortable if Spike had been paying attention. All of his focus, however, was on the portal. So close, yet effectively out of reach unless Dehevret let him through. Spike wouldn't fool himself in thinking he could get past the demon leader without dying an instant death. _   
  
_ With a wave, Dehevret urged his horse back and ushered Spike to the portal. _   
  
_ Spike didn't spare a thought for the reasons.  _   
  
_ He jumped. _   
  
_ Through worlds, his mind turned, he landed hard on the other side. He rolled into a gravestone in the middle of the late stage of a battle. His presence seemed to go unnoticed, and for that, Spike was grateful. It allowed him to hunker down against the gravestone, hold his head, recover from the journey. _   
  
_ "Spike!" _   
  
_ Buffy's voice. _   
  
_ Spike looked up. She wore his coat. Blood smeared her neck - demon blood and her blood. Her hair was short and loose, strands tousled in front of her face. She held an axe in one hand and a look of hope in her eyes. _   
  
_ She was the most beautiful thing he'd set eyes on. _   
  
_ Spike keeled over on himself. The pain was too much. Must be the portal, ripping at him. He groaned a scream as the world went black. _   
  
_ **** _   
  
_ Dehevret allowed his horse to set a leisurely pace back to his waiting army. There was no rush now. This prolonged plan had resulted in little reward for his efforts. It was frustrating, but not entirely unexpected. _   
  
_ H'lyack, his trusted lieutenant, trotted up to him. The Beyol demon had been with Dehevret for near on a century and had the battle scars to prove it. Dehevret valued loyalty in his subordinates. _   
  
_ "Orders, sir?" _   
  
_ "Ready the men," Dehevret said. "We take Cathela by morning. We'll acquire something from this jaunt." _   
  
_ H'lyack nodded, though he hesitated before turning away to carry out his orders.  _   
  
_ "You let the vampire go?" he questioned. "We could have at least sold him back to Ugvan." _   
  
_ Dehevret looked back to the now closed portal. "He has his own soul back. He doesn't belong here anymore." _  
  
tbc..._


	17. Help

The H'Talth stone was a modest carving of a weird-looking dolphin. Willow told Buffy that it was a river dolphin, but Buffy had already lost interest. The come-down after a battle was always a bitch, and attention span was one of the first things to go. _   
  
_ The fight had been good, though. Deliciously good. It settled in her stomach, and the cravings for cocaine stopped for the first time in a week. It gave her body a strength and form, a power unlike that which she had possessed previously. She had been able to be confident and secure, even while staring in the face of potential death. _   
  
_ It was both a rush and a reassurance at the same time. It was everything she hungered for, and all she could feel now was the deep satisfaction. _   
  
_ Back at the Magic Box, Anya tended to Buffy's wound while Willow and Tara prepared a spell to destroy the statue. Buffy found herself thankful for Anya's curt, undemanding treatment. She didn't have to posture and act friendly. Instead, Buffy could quietly revel in the post-battle high. Oh, the axe wound hurt like nothing else, but it was trivial. It didn't matter. All Buffy wanted to do was go home, go to bed, and dream of glory. _   
  
_ Giles and Xander entered as the witches started their spell. The two men had dropped the unconscious Spike off at his crypt. Buffy had wanted to go, but her injury made it prudent for her to defer the duty to others. Besides, she wasn't sure if Spike would want her anywhere near him after what she'd had to do to him to get him home. She had a feeling he wouldn't be happy about being stuck with another soul -  _his _ soul this time. _   
  
_ She didn't want him to be mad at her. _   
  
_ The H'Talth stone shattered like a firework, each piece shimmering and fizzling before crumbling into ash that rained down onto the shop floor. Anya tutted at the mess even as she continued to tape down the gauze at Buffy's side. Buffy breathed a sigh of relief as the instrument of possible demon invasions disappeared. _   
  
_ Anya stood. "That's a bad wound," she said. "You should probably go to the hospital." _   
  
_ Buffy shook her head. "I just wanna go home." Her legs wobbled like jelly when she stood and she had to grip the edge of the counter for support. Blood loss had done its damage, but her Slayer healing was already kicking in. She'd be fine.  _   
  
_ "Ah, Buffy," Giles said as he noticed her standing, "If you'd like, I can check on Spike tomorrow to - " _   
  
_ "I'll do it," Buffy interrupted him. She paused. "I'll take care of Spike." _   
  
_ He was her responsibility now. She'd brought him over. She'd put a soul in him. She knew the dangers. She'd signed up for Spike duty, and she wouldn't let anyone else take over.  _   
  
_ Her friends were going through the post-battle come-down, though their version was different than hers. There were the giggles, the excited retellings of near misses and brave moments. Buffy didn't want to stay for the juvenile festivities. That's not what fighting was about. _   
  
_ She left as Xander recounted his close brush with death, complete with a showing of the bruise around his throat. Buffy didn't know if the others noticed her exit. It didn't matter. _   
  
_ She walked slowly and tried not to pull at the wound at her side. The claw marks down her neck were almost healed already and were reduced to thin red lines that swerved below her collar. _   
  
_ She wished she could scar. Buffy would like to have some physical reminder of the battle every now and again. Her Slayer powers were too efficient at patching up broken skin, so her body remained unbroken.  _   
  
_ Buffy passed Jimmy's Donuts on the edge of downtown when she heard the scuffle of a fight in the alley to the left. Buffy wanted nothing more than to sleep, but duty called. With a heavy sigh, she stepped behind the donut shop. _   
  
_ "Hey!" she called as she rounded the corner.  _   
  
_ A vampire - a teen boy once upon a time - adorned in a varsity letter jacket had a young girl pushed up against the brick wall. In the darkness, blood ran down her neck, and the vampire turned his head with a growl. The girl screeched like an owl when Buffy appeared. _   
  
_ Buffy crossed her arms. "I'm really too tired for this," she complained, not to anybody in particular. Maybe if she announced it to the universe, someone would take mercy on her and her exhausted, injured state. _   
  
_ Varsity's grip on the girl loosened and his threatening expression fell. His demon face contorted with fear. He released the girl fully and backed into the wall beside her. _   
  
_ "Slayer!" he hissed. _   
  
_ Buffy raised her eyebrows. "Yeah..." _   
  
_ He ran. Without another word, he made a beeline for the exit on the opposite side of the alley and sprinted. Guy must've been on the track team. _   
  
_ Buffy wasn't used to that reaction. _   
  
_ The girl sank to the ground sobbing. Her entire body trembled, and her arms jerked stiffly when she wiped her face. With a sigh, Buffy knelt next to her. Tiny pebbles on the ground poked at her through her jeans. _   
  
_ "Hey, you're alright now, okay?" _   
  
_ "That was a...a..." the girl stammered through mammoth tears that streaked her mascara. _   
  
_ "Vampire, yeah." Buffy inspected the bite on the girl's neck. It wasn't very deep. Varsity had only got a nip of her. "But he's gone. I can walk you home." _   
  
_ The girl cried harder. _   
  
_ Buffy remembered this. Most victims ran when Buffy came on the scene. However, for some being the object of a vampire's attack shorted out their brain and they shut down entirely. They ended up a tearful wreck until their mind could process it all. Buffy would have to stay with them in the interim. _   
  
_ Preparing for the long-haul Buffy, sat down next to the girl. She brushed a donut box out of the way and tried to ignore the scent of moldy dough. _   
  
_ "What's your name?" _   
  
_ The girl heaved some sobs, and Buffy wasn't sure if she'd get an answer. "Mandy," she said at last. _   
  
_ "Hi Mandy. I'm Buffy." _   
  
_ Mandy. Mandy was the first person she'd rescued since she came back. Buffy felt like giving her a gold star for the honor. Maybe a big ceremony with a box of sprinkled donuts and balloons.  _   
  
_ "Was he a date?" Buffy asked. _   
  
_ Mandy nodded, pulling her skirt down over her knees. She looked cute. Buffy would have wanted that outfit when she was in high school. Mandy had style, and, if Buffy looked past the ruined make-up, snot, and tears, she also had a pretty face. _   
  
_ "I hate it when dates turn out to be vampires," Buffy said casually. "But hey! It means you have a good excuse to turn him down for a second date!" _   
  
_ This only made Mandy cry harder.  _   
  
_ "Sorry," Buffy said. "Guess I'm not very good at this part anymore." Was she ever good at this part? _   
  
_ "I really liked him!" Mandy cried. "I thought he liked me!" _   
  
_ "Well, maybe he did. I mean, with vampires, love and violence and all can get mixed up. Or! Maybe he was going to turn you into a vampire to do the eternal love thing!" _   
  
_ The sobs stopped but only because Mandy looked at her in horror. _   
  
_ "You know, I'll just stop talking," Buffy said. _   
  
_ Stupid, stupid Buffy. She leaned her head back to rest against the wall behind her and closed her eyes. No, she never was good at this part. That's comforting. At least this was something she hadn't lost during her alternate dimension side-trip. She needed to get a pamphlet to help calm people down. "So Your Date Turned Out to be a Vampire: What To Do Next".  _   
  
_ Somebody else should write it, though. Buffy never knew what to do next. _   
  
_ She placed a hand over the axe wound at her side. Hopefully Mandy would calm down soon.  _   
  
_ Buffy tensed when she heard footsteps approaching. Varsity coming back with the rest of his team? No, there was only one person. She motioned for Mandy to be quiet and stood. _   
  
_ Spike walked around the corner. He looked small without his jacket. _   
  
_ "Spike," Buffy said. She spared a glance back to Mandy, who was going back to that terrified bunny look. _   
  
_ "Slayer," Spike said. He stalked toward her while he gave a predator's perusal to Mandy. "Found me some dinner?" _   
  
_ Right. Spike was pissed at her about the soul. It would take him a while to adjust, and now he was going to be a jerk and take it out on poor Mandy who looked about to piss herself in fear.  _   
  
_ "Spike - " _   
  
_ "You left me in my crypt without a note or anything," Spike said. He stopped a couple feet from her. His voice was bitter. _   
  
_ "We didn't know how long you'd be out. I thought you'd need some rest," Buffy rushed to explain. "I was going to stop by tomorrow. You know, to return your coat."  _   
  
_ At the mention, Spike's eyes traced the outline of his jacket on her body. Buffy wrapped the jacket more tightly around her.  _   
  
_ "You put a soul in me." His voice was ragged as if he'd been screaming. _   
  
_ "I did." _   
  
_ Why was she acting defensive? Why was  _she _ about to piss herself? Just because Spike was coming across all angry bear-like didn't mean Buffy had to back down and whimper. She was the Slayer and she had Mandy to look after. Spike could fuck off. _   
  
_ Buffy continued, taking a step toward him. "And you know what? I'm glad I did! There was no other way to get you back over here, and I know that was your big goal, after all. So you're welcome, Spike. I put a soul in you so you could come home." _   
  
_ Spike's eyes flashed. "And this soul? It has the same clause that Angelus' had, doesn't it? What are you gonna do if I end up unchipped and unsouled in your city?" He looked back at Mandy. "Bring me delicious morsels to eat?" _   
  
_ He stepped close to Buffy and whispered in her ear. "I smell her fear. And yours." His dead breath tickled. _   
  
_ Buffy caught him by the elbow and whirled him around to hit the wall behind her. Mandy screamed and scrambled out of the way as Buffy pinned Spike to the building. His face was concealed, but he didn't react. His body remained still and loose, easy for her to manipulate. _   
  
_ "Listen, Spike, I know that new soul is making you a little loopy, so you get a pass for acting creepy this time. Mandy? Now's a good time to - " _   
  
_ Buffy didn't get to finish her sentence. Spike elbowed her in the face. Buffy released him in surprise. _   
  
_ He got away from her. He always was fast. Mandy tried to stand, but Spike caught her first. He shoved her into the wall and wrenched her head to the side. He had his vamp face out and lowered his head to Mandy's neck, right where Varsity had left his mark. _   
  
_ Buffy was also fast. She recovered her balance and yanked Spike back by the shoulder. She had her stake out on reflex and swung her arm to bury it half an inch into Spike's chest. _   
  
_ Mandy ran. _   
  
_ Buffy froze, the stake partially impaled in Spike. Not far enough to hit the heart, but far enough to make him stop.  _   
  
_ She didn't want to kill him. This whole time they'd been separated she wanted nothing more than to have him with her. So, fine, he didn't love her. Didn't even like her. She could deal with that. Biting other people? Being  _that _ sort of demon?  _   
  
_ No, she couldn't let him do that. Whoever she was now, she was still the Slayer and that meant protecting people. If she had to leave Spike as dust in the alley, she'd do it, even though she would hate herself for it. _   
  
_ Her hand remained firm, though. No shaking from Buffy. Her convictions hadn't been so firm in so long. This was  _right_ . _   
  
_ "You're not gonna let me do it, are you?" Spike asked quietly. _   
  
_ "Of course I'm not gonna let you fucking do it," she said. _   
  
_ He dropped his head, an unexpected move for him. Buffy had thought he would attack again, maybe spew some insults. Instead, he stepped backwards and freed himself from her stake. He didn't look up, instead turning his head to the side to inspect the donut shop's dumpster. "Want my jacket, pet." _   
  
_ Of course. He came stalking her, acted like a complete ass, attacked a high school girl, and practically  _insisted _ that she stake him. Then he pretends it's no big deal and asks for his  _coat_ ? Buffy wanted to slug him. She told herself it was his new soul messing with his head, but she was past the point of caring about that. He was better without the fucking soul. _   
  
_ She yanked the jacket off, pulling roughly at the leather, and threw it to the ground.  _   
  
_ "I don't know why I was looking forward to see you," she yelled. Yelling kept the tears at bay. "You're a jerk and a demon and...and your coat smells bad!" _   
  
_ Spike picked up the jacket. Without any inspection, he slipped it around his shoulders. Her last statement made him look at her with a tired smirk. _   
  
_ "That it does," he agreed. _   
  
_ Buffy felt naked without the coat. Without her armor. Her protection. Instead, she was exposed to Spike and the world, and she didn't even know what to do with Spike. She'd said he was her responsibility, but the way he was acting? What the fuck did it mean? _   
  
_ She crossed her arms over her chest. "Can I trust you, Spike?" _   
  
_ "Probably not." _   
  
_ She hastened to prove him wrong. After all... _   
  
_ "Your soul - " _   
  
_ "My soul's gone," he said. He looked away from her again, to the street this time, as if pondering a rapid exit. _   
  
_ "It left when I came through the portal." _   
  
_ Of course. Of course it had. Buffy forced herself to keep breathing. That was obvious. The one thing he'd been wanting since he'd  _found _ her again on the other side. _   
  
_ "So, coming home?" she asked, swallowing down her fear and anxiety. _   
  
_ "Seeing you." _   
  
_ The words were so unexpected, Buffy's first instinct was that she had misheard him. The wind had whispered falsehoods in her ear and run off. However, as Buffy looked up, her eyes meeting his, she knew she'd heard correctly. There was no miscommunication.  _Seeing her_ ...like he was doing now with eyes like ice burning coals. _   
  
_ She blinked. _   
  
_ "Oh." That meant...what? _   
  
_ Spike didn't respond. Instead he plunged his hands into the pockets of his jacket and maintained his distance from her. _   
  
_ "I don't - " she started to say but Spike cut her off. _   
  
_ "I'm afraid," he said. He paused to make sure he had Buffy's attention. "I'm afraid...of what I can do. That girl, Mandy?" He nodded his head in the direction she'd run off. "Should've enjoyed scaring her. But I didn't. Spent the past five years living off pig's blood and marshmallows. Guess I've gone soft." _   
  
_ "So even without your soul, you don't want to..." _   
  
_ "Feed? I'd love to. Or I think I would. I remember loving it." He shook his head. "Not going to, though." _   
  
_ "Why not?" _   
  
_ He laughed a ragged laugh. "Tiny cricket chirping in my ear? Don't rightly know, pet. My own conviction, I s'pose. Oh, and you." _   
  
_ Buffy tensed. "Me. I can't - " _   
  
_ "I mean you'll stake me right good if I step out of line, won't you?" His eyes pleaded. _   
  
_ She could do that much. Whatever doubts Buffy had as to her suitability as a tiny conscience cricket, she was confident in her ability to stake demons. "Yes." _   
  
_ He spread his arms in a typically grandiose gesture. "So, then." He looked around the alley. "Welcome home?" _   
  
_ Buffy wrapped her arms around herself rather than around him.Were hugs appropriate? Was anything appropriate? What were they doing? What was the next step? Seeing him should have calmed so many of her fears and trepidations, but it only seemed to multiply the endless onslaught of questions pounding in her head. _   
  
_ **** _   
  
_ "Let me walk you to your crypt," Buffy said.  _   
  
_ Spike hadn't expected that. Being out of his jacket revealed how small and worn she was. Weary. Yet she was offering to walk him to his crypt like some lovesick college boy? _   
  
_ He didn't know her game. He didn't know  _his _ game. The events of the past few days had thoroughly emaciated the more substantial regions of his brain. Thoughts were a step beyond him, and the future was untenable but for the imposing present. _   
  
_ Spike tilted his head. "You look close to dropping. Better, I think, for you to get to bed." _   
  
_ "You have a bed at your crypt." _   
  
_ Spike remained silent, but his eyes widened in surprise. Buffy didn't fidget under the microscope. _   
  
_ Was she asking for...? _   
  
_ They hadn't fucked for a while now. Hell, as soon as Buffy got her powers back she'd been hands off. All tease, no give.  _   
  
_ Spike felt as if he had a expansive map of the world, but everything was unlabeled and unfamiliar and Buffy was at some unknown location. He couldn't pin her down, and he didn't know how to react to her. She scared him. _   
  
_ "Don't you?" she prompted. _   
  
_ He snapped out of his shock and nodded. He looked down to her feet. "Yeah. Course." _   
  
_ "Then, let's go." _   
  
_ If she wanted to fuck, he wouldn't turn her down. She looked better than ever before. Not as scrawny as she had been, not as wasted. Her shoulders held higher and her chin raised just a bit more. He wished he'd been able to see her during the fight at the portal. The thought of her wielding that axe while clouded in his jacket rushed blood to his lower regions. _   
  
_ Fuck, he wanted her. _   
  
_ He closed his eyes to shut out her signal, try to calm himself down, otherwise he'd never make the distance to his crypt. His other senses picked up the slack. The tapping sound of her cross-trainers on the cement sidewalk. The radiant brilliance that ebbed from her body. The creeping smell of blood... _   
  
_ "You bleeding?" Spike asked. They were only halfway down Keller St. and were still several blocks away from his crypt. _   
  
_ Buffy frowned and her eyebrows knitted together. "Got a bit knocked around by one of the demons opening the portal." She gently rubbed at her side. "It's already healing." _   
  
_ "Good," he nodded. _   
  
_ "Was it difficult getting back through?" Buffy asked, picking up the conversational ball. "Since Dehevret showed up when I went through? That meant...did you get captured? God, I didn't even think of that." _   
  
_ Probably better if she hadn't ever thought of it. Spike didn't want to think of those last days before coming home. He certainly didn't want Buffy knowing anything of them. _   
  
_ Spike shrugged in a show of nonchalance, but his nerves didn't feel it. _   
  
_ "Spent some time as a captive, yeah. Managed to keep myself close to the portal, though, like you told me to." _   
  
_ "Good," Buffy echoed his earlier statement. "I don't suppose you got a chance to kill Dehevret before coming back over?" _   
  
_ Spike's stride stuttered.  _   
  
_ If she knew, she'd run away from him right? Like that girl, Mandy, frightened and running in terror. He couldn't bear the thought of driving her away.  _   
  
_ "Sorry to say I didn't take out any demons on the way over, love." His voice was clipped, and he spoke with a finality intended to close the conversation. _   
  
_ "Oh. Well, they're stuck over there. Let them destroy themselves, right?"  _   
  
_ "Right." _   
  
_ He was loathsome, wasn't he? He even knew it. He'd made it home on borrowed goodness, and that had been ripped from him not one minute after he'd crossed over. He still was that demon that had traded in Avery's body and life for his fucking golden ticket.  _   
  
_ Yeah, he couldn't bear the thought of driving Buffy away. Almost as much as he couldn't bear the thought of hurting her like he'd hurt...so many others. _   
  
_ Suddenly, the idea of fucking her didn't appeal. He wanted to warn her away, but a more selfish part - the part that would inevitably win out - wanted to cling to her. _   
  
_ They reached his crypt. Spike's mind buzzed with uncertainty.. He couldn't do this, whatever they were about to do. He needed time, and she needed to not be near him. _   
  
_ He dashed ahead of her at the entrance and turned to face her. _   
  
_ "Uh...truth is, I don't  _actually _ have a bed, so to speak. I use the sarcophagus when I don't just fall asleep in front of the TV." _   
  
_ Buffy looked nonplussed, hand at her side.  _   
  
_ "Oh," she said. _   
  
_ Spike didn't meet her eyes. "I mean, I know what you're after, but I think, what with your being injured and all - " _   
  
_ "We're not having sex," she said. _   
  
_ Spike recoiled as if she'd slugged him in the gut. Wasn't that what this had been about? Spike replayed the evening in his head. She'd wanted to go to bed... _   
  
_ Fuck, she'd wanted to go to  _bed_ .  _   
  
_ In which case, Spike was even more confused. _   
  
_ "Ever or...? I mean, I wasn't thinking  _now_ ...unless you wanted..." Spike scrambled to find some hold on the conversation and get back on track with her. _   
  
_ "I'm the Slayer, but even I think sex with a huge axe wound in the gut sounds unappealing."  _   
  
_ "So that's the only reason?" Spike asked. _   
  
_ "Spike, I'm really tired." Buffy half-turned away as if to leave. _   
  
_ "Right. Sorry. Um..." He looked around his crypt in dismay.  _   
  
_ He had nothing for her. His exhausted Slayer, near-collapsed from fighting for him, and he had nothing to offer except a lumpy armchair and a half-empty box of Weetabix. Why the fuck  _had _ she fought so hard for him? Should have left him on the other side. _   
  
_ The anxiety, the energy left him. His body slumped and he wanted nothing more than to retire to the lower level of his crypt and stay sheathed in perpetual darkness. He couldn't trust himself.  _She _ couldn't trust him. Best to keep himself away from everything. _   
  
_ "I'm going home to sleep. We'll  _talk _ later," she said. _   
  
_ "Okay." _   
  
_ He kept his distance as Buffy walked back down the stairs in front of his crypt.  _   
  
_ Funny. He had no soul now, but agony centered in his chest just the same.  _   
  
_ He'd been a bloody vessel for souls over there. Not only had he had some mismatched soul shoved in, but he'd had the torment of it being shoved right back out for his own. By all accounts, his chest should be a mass of blood and gore, exposed to the elements and scratched raw from the jagged sins the souls forced him to feel guilt for. _   
  
_ This pain was far worse. It was the pain of watching her walk away, knowing there was nothing he could do for her, knowing that he was wholly unsuitable to even  _think _ of helping her. He couldn't even help himself.  _   
  
_ Buffy paused when she reached the sparse grass at the bottom of the steps. _   
  
_ "Just," she turned back to him, "tell me straight, Spike. We're in love, right?" _   
  
_ Spike looked down at her from his position at the top of the stairs. Her face was tender, and her eyes wide and hopeful. He didn't see the pathetic coke whore anymore. She was  _Buffy_ , and she was bloody beautiful. What wouldn't he give to be able to stay by her side? _   
  
_ "Yeah. We're in love," he said softly. _   
  
_ Buffy smiled. "Good." _   
  
_ When she turned to walk home, Spike's pain was gone. _  
  
fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for following along, guys! I appreciate it and I hope you enjoyed. 
> 
> Before anybody asks, I do intend to write a sequel for this fic. Influence of Demons is about Buffy and Spike's efforts to get home from the alternate dimension. Once they're home, that story ends. However, there is still more to be told with this version of the characters. The sequel will deal with their recovery from the various traumas of the other world and how they handle the canon events of S5. As you all are no doubt aware, there are a lot of loose threads hanging, and I hope to tie them up in the sequel. :)


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